


I'd Wait Forever

by downtonarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Harry, Depression, Downton Abbey AU, Edwardian AU, Edwardian Period, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Zayn Malik/Louis Tomlinson, Nick dies, Top Niall, Zayn dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:16:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2689115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downtonarry/pseuds/downtonarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 1912, and Niall Horan has just become the new chauffeur of the powerful Earl of Holmes Chapel and his family. While he expects the aristocratic family to be pompous and egotistical, he doesn't expect to fall for the Earl's son, Harry. Harry, on the other hand, doesn't expect to figure out the empty feeling in his life until he meets the politically radical Niall.</p><p>(EDIT: I wrote most of this long before Zayn left the band, and I care deeply about the character I represented him as, so there is NO shade towards him in this)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to stay as close to the storyline of Tom Branson and Lady Sybil Branson as I could, with some obvious differences given the characters. While I will (mostly) be sticking to the exact situations presented in the storyline, there will be different feelings, scenes, and dialogue. That being said, there are also times where I stick almost exactly with the script of the show, with some lines either being altered only a bit or said verbatim (usually notable quotes). Thanks!!
> 
> On a side note, I left this unfinished for a very long time. If you are new readers, I killed off the character of Zayn LONG before he left the band, so there is NO shade towards him. I care very deeply about the character I chose for him to be.

1912  
“His Lordship will see you now,” Higgins opened the door to the library, ushering the new chauffeur into the gilded room, who bowed slightly upon seeing his new employer.

“M’lord,” Niall Horan managed, smiling pleasantly but letting his eyes wander over the books.

“Hello,” Lord Holmes-Chapel rose from his desk to greet his new charge. “Horan, isn’t it?”

“Yes, m’lord.” Niall continued to smile. No bad impressions were to be made the first day. 

Lord Holmes-Chapel began to launch into a few introductions about the Abbey, things Niall had already been told downstairs by Higgins, ending with a question about his past employment. 

“Oh, needed something different. The mistress was a good employer, but she didn’t much take the car out, or let me take it over twenty.”

Lord Holmes-Chapel chuckled slightly and caught Niall’s wandering eyes. “Interested in books, Horan? You’re welcome to sign some out. Everyone in the house is allowed provided they note it in the ledger, there. Even my children must write it down.”

“Some, m’lord.”

“What are your interests, then?” Lord Holmes-Chapel settled back into his desk chair. 

“Politics, mostly, although I do have a penchant for music history, and astronomy.”

“A political chauffeur, hm? I’m not surprised, being Irish,” Lord Holmes-Chapel looked slightly amused. “Regardless, take what you’d like, just remember to write it down.”

A sign he was dismissed, Niall nodded his head and went towards the door. 

“Oh, Horan.”

Niall turned back. 

“You’ll have to take Lady Holmes-Chapel and my son and daughter into Winsford tomorrow. Lord Harry has a fitting for a new suit.”

“Certainly, m’lord.”  
~  
“I don’t understand why Harry gets new clothes but I have to wait for a new frock.” Lady Gemma was less than impressed with her younger brother. Although she was older and substantially more mature than Harry, Harry was the heir to the Abbey, and Gemma often felt less attention was paid to her. 

Her mother, the Countess of Holmes Chapel, or, Lady Anne, tried to sooth Gemma. “Before the season, love. Harry didn’t get suits last year and now he’s gotten taller.”

Gemma quieted as Harry puttered into the sitting room and took a piece of cake off the platter. He looked lost in his thoughts, but that was normal. Harry had rather the disposition to be quite the drifter. 

“Hello, Harry,” Anne interjected.

Harry snapped back to reality. “Mama, Gemma.”

“What do you suppose you’re going to get today?”

“I don’t know, quite,” Harry smoothed a wayward hair down that ought to be gelled into place. “It’s always the same things in there, isn’t it?”

Gemma rolled her eyes. 

“Did you want luncheon before you go? I can get Higgins to lay out something light.” Anne touched her son’s hand slightly. 

“I don’t think so, Mama. We can get something in Winsford if we’re very hungry.”  
~  
As the family approached the car, Niall felt a hitch in his breathing. He was always a bit nervous meeting the family, and as they approached, they looked rather formidable. Lord Holmes-Chapel’s wife and daughter looked prim as they entered the car, and Niall greeted them quietly. Her son lagged behind, but he didn’t seem so... hard-shelled. Niall watched him attempt to covertly lick his palm and rub a stray clump of hair back onto his head; he seemed gangly and long-limbed as he climbed into the car. Heir indeed, Niall mused. As far as Niall knew about the heir, he was eighteen and quite clever, but past that, he had no idea. Now, he saw a skinny young man with hands and feet too big for himself, with big green eyes and a slightly flared nose. The hairs he’d tucked back into his coif had fallen out again. Once he saw Niall, he smiled at him as a greeting, exposing a pair of dimples. Niall turned and started the car once Harry was safely inside the carriage, letting the family chat amongst themselves. 

Lady Holmes-Chapel and Lady Gemma chatted about dull things, mostly gossip from London which Niall couldn’t follow, while Lord Harry looked out the window. As they chatted a bit more, Harry appeared to grow a bit agitated. 

“Wouldn’t it be a bit better to discuss things more important?”

“Like what, Harry?” Lady Gemma looked as annoyed in return. 

“Suppose you stopped discussing what to wear for a minute and talked about all the women fighting for your cause right now.”

Niall perked his ears up. He considered himself rather a socialist, and was surprised to hear Lord Harry speak so brazenly about a rather liberal issue. He’d heard Lord Harry to be bright, but he hadn’t exactly expected something like this. 

Gemma continued on. “Women’s rights, Harry? Leave it alone, it isn’t even your fight. If I feel like I need the vote, maybe I’d do something.”

Lady Holmes-Chapel looked strained. “Another time, Harry.”

Niall didn’t dare turn around.  
~  
The next day, Harry had to return to Winsford for another fitting. They bored him to death, but he supposed he did need new clothes. There was something incredibly dull about fussing and changing outfits several times a day, but he supposed the old rules weren’t changing any time soon. He didn’t mind this ride up, though, because he was interested in watching the new chauffeur. He had a curious air about him, with his sandy blond hair and his bent nose, like perhaps he had gotten into a fistfight when he was younger. Horan was his name, he believed his mother told him. 

“M’lord.” Horan greeted him with a little nod and smile as Harry got into the carriage, and Harry obliged with a smile back. 

“Thank you, Horan. Just to the same place we were yesterday.”

“Of course, m’lord. Get the suit sorted then, yesterday?”

“I suppose we did.” Harry liked listening to Horan’s accent, it was different from what he was used to and just, very nice. 

“Only, only I was thinking, m’lord,” Horan seemed to be struggling to articulate his thoughts, as he started the car. 

“Yes?”

“Only I couldn’t help overhearing you yesterday in the car. Heard you were interested in politics.”

“Often. I try to keep up.”

“Because I’m quite political. Thought you might be interested in these.” Horan blinked his blue eyes slightly anxiously and handed over several pamphlets to Harry, who glanced at them.

“Thank you, Horan. Might not want to alert my family to your tendencies, though, might not be the best match.” Harry felt baffled at the pamphlets. It was very kind of the new chauffeur, but it seemed a little inexplicable. Regardless, he felt flattered that Horan had been listening and sided with him. 

Horan laughed slightly. “They’re having a rally down in Winsford in a few weeks, actually, if you were interested. Get to hear what all the candidates have to say.”

“Maybe. I’m not sure what papa would have to say about that.” 

Horan nodded and turned back to focus fully on the road. Harry watched the back of his head with a flicker of a smile on his lips. Perhaps he had just found an ally amidst his backwards family.   
~  
Harry fiddled with the cuff of his shirt while the footman helped him into his jacket. “Thank you. I suppose there is a certain satisfaction in wearing new clothes.”

“I suppose so, my lord,” the footman mumbled. 

“Something wrong, Nicholas?”

“Nothing, my lord.”

“Don’t be silly. What is it, now?” Harry glanced in the mirror and pushed some hair back into place. 

“Just sometimes feel I won’t ever do anything with my life, you know?”

Harry turned back to look at Nicholas. “What is this about?”

“Just, a job interview. But even if I did make it out there, I probably wouldn’t get it. But I don’t suppose I can get the afternoon off either.”

“Nonsense. You’ll go to the interview. Let me handle it.”

“You’d be alright with me going?”

“You’re trying to better yourself, it’s very admirable. We’ll be sorry to see you go, but of course you must attend this interview. What is the position?”

The young footman looked relieved. “Thank you, sir. It’s to be a bank clerk. I’ve been taking some correspondence courses.”

“That’s wonderful. Look, here, we’ll even get you looking the part,” Harry went to his cupboard and took a suit out. “This doesn’t fit me as well anymore. Should do the trick. And don’t you worry. You’ll be at the interview.”

Nicholas smiled. “I’m....thank you so much. But you’re a bit late for tea now.”

“Of course.” Harry left his bedroom and headed down to the drawing room for tea. Unsurprisingly, he walked in to find his family impatiently tapping their feet waiting for him. 

“This is the new suit, then?” Gemma looked less than impressed. 

“It looks very nice, Harry,” Anne defended. 

Harry was hardly listening, though, as he stared out the window. He could have sworn he saw a flash of green chauffeur suit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Harry finds he enjoys being political. Everyone else struggles with this.

The air was thick and heavy as the throngs pushed against one another, rough voices colliding with each other in such a clamor that nobody could be understood. The speaker was shouting at the top of his lungs, making him slightly more audible than the rest, but the overall noise was incomprehensible. 

“What do ‘ya think, m’lord!” Horan shouted over the din. 

Harry looked around at all the worn faces, faces of farmers pushing for change. He had decided to go to the rally in Winsford, and it was utterly exhilarating. He couldn’t believe he had never been to such an event before. Democracy was taking place and it was delicious. “It’s wonderful, Horan! I’ve never seen anything like this!” 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, m’lord!” Horan watched the speaker continue on, hanging on to a piece of the bottom of Harry’s jacket lightly so he didn’t get lost in the crowd. It was a curious gesture on Horan’s part, somewhat like a mother trying not to lose track of her child. “Did you want to think about leaving, yet? Had a good taste of it!”

“Oh, not yet, Horan! You don’t have to worry about me, I can take care of myself! I just want to experience this!”

“It’s going to be dinner soon, m’lord! I imagine you’d have some explaining to do if you showed up mussed like this!”

Harry relented a bit. Horan was right. It was hard to tear himself away from the throngs, but he let Horan lead him out. He felt light as he left the crowd, letting all their energy continue to rush through him. It wasn’t a feeling he wanted to leave him. 

Horan reached the car and opened it for Harry, then stepped inside himself. “What did you think, then, Horan? Did you agree with the speakers?”

“I thought some of them made some fair points.” Horan started the car. 

“Would you like to go into politics, then?” Harry stared intently at Horan.

“It’s a bit of a dream, really, m’lord. If I ever were to, I think I’d want to work on things past women’s rights, or even Irish independence. I think I’d want to work on the working gap, between the...” Horan petered off and went back to driving. 

“What’s that?”

“Nothing, m’lord. I don’t want to offend His Lordship.”

“It’s alright. I’d like to hear what you have to say.”

“I was going to say, I’d like to work on closing the gap between the aristocracy and the poor. But I don’t mean it against His Lordship, he’s a good man.”

Harry tried to contain a chuckle and failed. “Alright, fair enough, Horan. I don’t suppose you could pull the car around and take me about the back? I don’t want anyone to catch me in this condition.”

~  
“How were the rallies today, Harry?” Lord Holmes-Chapel picked at his dinner slightly, and didn’t look up at Harry as he spoke. 

Harry felt his face flare up. He didn’t understand who could have told. Horan hadn’t even come into the house. All eyes were now on him at the table, including his grandmother who had come for dinner. “It was interesting, Papa. Several good speakers.”

Lord Holmes-Chapel made a noise of slight discontent. “Mm, I see. I hear it got quite boisterous.”

“Oh, nothing too radical, Papa. Don’t be silly.” Harry darkly turned towards his dinner and stared at a carrot on his plate. 

Lord Holmes-Chapel threw down his fork. “Why, then, did you decide not to tell me? I assume this was the chauffeur’s plan. I knew he would be trouble!”

“You haven’t any idea what you’re talking about, Papa! It wasn’t Horan!” Harry also threw down his fork. He didn’t generally get angry with his family, and always felt surprised with himself when he did. This time, though, the injustice of blaming Horan deeply bothered him and he felt it was warranted.

“What are you saying, then?” Lord Holmes-Chapel was working himself into a state and Harry felt similarly. 

Lady Anne cut in. “Desmond, I asked Horan to take Harry into town.”

Harry wasn’t finished. “Anyway, Papa, I don’t understand why you are so against change in our system. I’d like to go out and do some canvassing, myself.”

Harry’s elderly grandmother looked up. “Canvassing?”

“Where you go door to door, Granny.”

“I know what it is, Harry. But why would you want to do that?”

Gemma piped up. “I think what Harry is getting at...”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Gemma, not you, too!” Lord Holmes-Chapel had gone a very deep shade of red.

“I don’t give a fig about going down to the rallies, Papa. I was going to say, Harry can make his own choices. There isn’t any harm in him going down.”

Harry nodded gratefully at his sister. If there was one thing he could count on Gemma for beyond constantly bickering with him, it was standing up for him when he needed. Nobody could bother him unless it was her. 

Lord Holmes-Chapel did not look so pleased. “We’ll discuss this later, Harry.”

“I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong. I listened to some speakers.”

“But perhaps next time, something terrible could happen. We could even find you arrested,” Granny interjected needlessly, which annoyed Harry to no end. He knew she was elderly and rather stuck in her ways, but it was frustrating nonetheless.

Lady Anne looked helplessly around the table at her family spitting fire at each other. “He wasn’t arrested, and he won’t be. No more of this tonight.”

~  
Horan had given Harry a pamphlet on the by-elections that were to be held on Friday. Harry couldn’t bear to miss it, having had so much fun last time. Apparently, however, he was not to go without permission, so he swallowed his pride and found his father in the library, writing letters at his desk. 

“Papa? I was wondering, if I could get Horan to take me into Winsford on Friday?

Lord Holmes-Chapel looked critically over his reading glasses. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Oh, heavens, Papa. It’s nothing like you’re thinking, I’d like to catch the choir performance the church is putting on.”

“I’m not sure, Harry.” Harry was definitely getting the silent treatment from his father. 

“I’m sorry I wanted to support the community.”

Lord Holmes-Chapel looked slightly annoyed, but looked up from his letter. “I suppose so. I’d like you back before the dinner gong.”

“Oh, yes, thank you, Papa. Thank you.” Harry grinned at his father, and he watched him soften. 

“You’re welcome. Excited in going up for the season in London soon? Perhaps you’ll find a lovely girl, I hear from your mother there are some nice girls being presented this year.” 

Harry waffled slightly. “Err, yes. Should be good fun.” 

Harry left his father there, and decided to fetch a book he’d left in his bedroom that he’d have liked to read before dinner, so he headed upstairs, to find Nicholas putting away some clothing. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. You go ahead with what you were doing.”

Nicholas sullenly nodded. 

“Did the interview not go as hoped? No matter, Nicholas, chin up. We’ll try again. There’ll be another post.”

“But, the thing is, my lord, it’s rather hopeless. I know you’re being kind, but things are different for you. You have the means of making things happen. It’s nearly impossible for folks like us.”

Harry frowned. “I won’t hear that. You’ll get a post, Nicholas. I’m not giving up after one go. And you shall not either.”

~  
“You’ll have to guide me, m’lord. I’m not sure where this church is.” Niall turned back to look at Lord Harry, who put his hat back on his head primly. 

“Right here, Horan. Just right here.”

“There’s no church, here, m’lord...oh, God.” There was no church, just throngs of people already congregating in the square. 

“I’m afraid I’ve tricked you, Horan. I didn’t want to miss the by-election and I didn’t want to get you in trouble. Now you never knew my intentions.” Lord Harry stepped out of the car.

“But, m’lord!” 

“Don’t worry, Horan!”

Niall felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. Rallies were one thing, but Lord Harry didn’t have any idea how vicious elections could be. “Hold on, m’lord, alright? Stay right there, I’ll go park the car. Just stay there.”

“Really, Horan. I thought I gave the orders.”

Niall ignored the second punch to his stomach and put the car into gear, parked it where he could find a space, and rushed back to where he left Lord Harry. Of course, he was gone. The lump in Niall’s throat grew as he made his way to the crowd of people, clamouring for space closer to the announcer on the podium. The announcer was reading out the scores, and with each new name, the crowd roared with more fury. He spotted Lord Harry right in the middle of it, with a stupid expression on his face, and hurried to him. 

“M’lord, isn’t it about time to go?”

“Of course not, Horan. We’ve yet to hear the score for the Liberals.”

“Listen, m’lord. This lot just wants to start a fight!” Horan could see he wasn’t making any impression on Lord Harry. Stupid stubbornness of being a youth. 

“It will be fine!” In that moment, a man knocked Lord Harry’s hat off his head, and Niall could see other men beginning to cause trouble. The shoving intensified throughout the crowd.

Niall stepped in front of Lord Harry instinctively. “Listen, mate, we’re on yer side. Just step away from us, not lookin’ for trouble.”

The man shoved Niall a bit, dropping an empty liquor bottle on the ground. “Aye?” He shoved Niall a bit more, and as Niall lunged to take on the drunkard, he noticed another man take hold of Lord Harry from behind and push him down, landing Lord Harry a square blow to the head on the edge of a table in the square. He fell, motionless.

“Oh, no. Oh please, God, no.” Niall summoned his strength and lifted Lord Harry into his arms and carried him out of the crowd. He didn’t expect to be able to lift someone grown, but Lord Harry felt weightless as he hauled him to the car. He still wasn’t waking up, although he was breathing, so Niall took the car as fast as he could to the Abbey, but couldn’t bear to bring Lord Harry inside. He brought him around to the back and rushed into the kitchens. 

“Who helps Lord Harry dress?” 

The kitchen maids looked up at Niall, startled. One of them piped up. “Should be Nicholas, I think. He’s in the boot room.”

“Go get him then!” Niall snarled. He hadn’t meant to snap but he was terrified. Nicholas appeared soon after a maid ran off.

“Nicholas, is it? Lord Harry has been injured, go get someone from upstairs who won’t do me in. Please!”

Nicholas looked startled. “Injured? How badly?”

“It doesn’t matter, go get someone! Tell them to come out to the car!”

“I’ll get his sister.” Nicholas started up the stairs, and Niall went out to the car to stay with Lord Harry. He watched Lady Gemma and Nicholas come outside, and he felt a little dizzy. Lord Harry stirred though, which gave him hope.

Lady Gemma put a hand to her mouth when she saw him. “Oh, my God. Darling.” She went and put a hand on Lord Harry’s head. “What on earth happened?”

Niall looked down, ashamed. “He went to the by-elections in Winsford. He got into a tussle.” 

“I could wring your neck for this. It could cost you your job.”

Lord Harry blinked sluggishly, coming to more fully. “No, no, Gem. Horan didn’t know. I told him I was going to a choir performance. Didn’t know.”

Lady Gemma scowled. “I don’t know how you’ll explain that to Papa, then. You’d better stick up for Horan.” She touched the wound on Lord Harry’s head. “Does it hurt much?”

“Some. I feel I can maybe get up now.” Niall stepped aside so Lady Gemma and Nicholas could help Lord Harry to his feet. 

Niall put in a slight plea for himself. “Please believe me, m’lady, that I did not take him knowingly. I never would have if I had known. I may be a socialist, but I’m not a lunatic.”

“We’ll see what Papa has to say.”

“Please, let me know how Lord Harry gets on.”

Lady Gemma raised her eyebrows. “Alright.”

~  
“You deliberately disobeyed me!” Lord Holmes-Chapel was working himself into a froth, pacing up and down Harry’s bedroom. 

Lady Anne flinched. “Desmond, please try to remain calm.”

“Of course, I blame that Horan. We never had anything like this in our home until he arrived!”

Harry looked sharply at his father. “Horan had nothing to do with this and I won’t hear another word on the matter! I tricked him! You have to understand I have my own thoughts and feelings about the world around us and I want to pursue those thoughts!”

“Because you know so much, Harold!” 

Gemma looked defensive on Harry’s behalf. “It wasn’t Horan, Papa.”

“You stay out of this! Horan leaves tonight!”

Harry felt himself fill with rage. “If Horan leaves tonight, I’ll...I’ll...I’ll leave! Then you’ll have to find someone else to be your heir!”

His entire family raised their eyebrows. “Perhaps,” Lady Anne tried gently, “we could discuss this in the morning.”

“I mean it! If he’s gone tomorrow I’ll run off!”

Lord Holmes-Chapel looked tired. “And go where, Harold?”

“I haven’t any idea, but I will!”

Lord Holmes-Chapel threw his hands up in frustration. “And I suppose we’ll all be sorry then.”

He stormed out, with his mother and sister quietly departing behind him. Harry flopped on his bed and listened to the fire that a maid had set up crackle quietly. Horan had rescued him, and all Harry could feel was horrifically guilty for making him go to the rally. He hoped Horan could forgive him, although he had a feeling deep in his stomach that he already had.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the eve of World War I, and it's been two years since Lord Harry and Niall attended the fateful rally. Lord Harry continues his search to find Nicholas a job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things I'd like to note about this chapter: first, unfortunately, Downton has major time-skips in a lot of episodes and this seems to be one of them. Whenever there is one, however, I will note it.   
> Secondly, I have introduced Louis in the role of Thomas Barrow. If you don't watch Downton, just know Thomas Barrow is really messed up and sad and has a lot of anger and he's not just a big dink.

Late July, 1914

It had been two years since Harry’s transgression at the by-elections, and life at the Abbey had passed by at a slow pace. Harry had not done anything else political for fears of his father taking it out on Horan, and besides, Harry didn’t like his family being angry with him. He supposed he could become more involved as he got older, and by twenty, he figured he might have more of an opportunity to be independent, so maybe he could revive his political spirit soon. Horan had also kept quiet about anything else political, although whenever he and Harry chatted in the car, he sensed Horan wanted to talk about that sort of thing. But instead, Harry asked questions about Horan’s family and other interests. He learned Horan had a penchant for fiddling but didn’t often, that his older brother had just gotten married, and that he missed his mother a great deal. In return, Harry often told Horan of things going on within his family, even if his father would deem it completely inappropriate. Harry enjoyed how open they could be with each other. He didn’t have a lot of friends because he didn’t seem to get on with the other boys he grew up with from other homes of nobility, but he felt very comfortable with Horan. Sometimes, even, he’d slip out from tea early and come visit Horan in the garage just to chat more. They’d look over the paper together and muse on stories. It felt very safe, and equal, the way he supposed most friendships that normal working citizens had were. 

The season in London was boring, as usual. He was always plied with a generous amount of lovely young women to court, but none of them were of interest to him. He liked to observe everyone quietly from the edge of all the incessant balls and parties, as he found the politics of how to behave with the opposite sex quite interesting. Most of all, he liked watching Gemma, who was a veteran of the season and desperate to find someone. The trouble was, nobody knew Gemma as well as he did, and none of the boys who took interest in her understood that she was incredibly hard-headed. Harry didn’t think it was a bad thing, but he sympathized with his sister. She needed someone who could understand how independent she wanted to be. Harry had no doubt Gemma would be far better at running the Abbey than he could, and he rather wished she could. But instead, she was forced to put herself at the mercy of a bunch of men who wanted to marry her and then choose what her opinions were to be. Harry was always amazed at Gemma’s stoicism through the season. 

Coming back to the Abbey was always a relief, especially as all the men could talk about was impending hostilities from Germany, and home was a welcome change from all that. It bothered him, of course, but he needed a mental break of hearing every tiny bit of new information about it. The new topic of conversation was the garden party his mother was planning. She had it every year, with nobles from all across Cheshire coming to attend. He’d gotten disappointing news from Nicholas, though. Another job interview had been passed along to another applicant, because Nicholas had no experience. He’d become quite lethargic in searching for other posts. To make it worse, while Harry had been away for the season, Nicholas’ mother had passed of a heart attack. He had already had some time off to visit her before she passed, but Harry wished he could have been there for him. He still a shred of hope for a job, though, although that shred was shrinking smaller by the day. Harry understood. Two years was too long of a time to wait. 

Fortune would have it, then, that he stumbled upon a guest being let in by Higgins in the front hall. 

Harry smiled and approached the portly gentleman. “Hello, Lord Harry. And...?” He offered his hand. 

“Mr. Watson, thank you,” the man grasped his hand. “I’ve been called in to install a telephone.”

Harry clapped his hands together. “Oh, wonderful! I had such fun using them in London.”

“They’re certainly a growing business. So much that we can’t even keep up at times. We seem to be needing everyone, from secretaries to installers to accountants.”

Harry furrowed his brow. “You need someone to take care of the money?”

“We do.”

“I think I’ve got just the man for you! Oh!” Harry clapped his hands together again, which garnered an odd look from Mr. Watson.

“He’d better hurry, then. We’ll need his application by tomorrow.”

“You’ll have it. I promise.”

~

The next day, Harry found Mr. Watson fiddling with the new telephone. It looked like the one in London, and Harry felt rather thrilled looking at it. But more important matters were at hand. 

“We didn’t hear back from you, Mr. Watson.”

Mr. Watson seemed startled at Harry’s voice. He must have accidentally snuck up on him. “Oh, I’m sorry, my lord. We’ve...the gentleman seemed very nice...but he doesn’t seem to have any work experience.”

Harry scowled slightly. “Work experience? He’s a very hard worker, I see it myself every day.”

“You wouldn’t know by the application.”

Harry came to the realization Nicholas had not included his work at the Abbey. It was a good post, but he supposed it would seem shameful. “Just hold on, Mr. Watson. I’ll be right back. Please stay there!” 

Harry rushed downstairs. A kitchen maid looked startled and put her head down at Harry while quietly greeting him. This sort of greeting bothered him. It wasn’t the maid’s fault, but he wished he could just talk to people. He didn’t want the staff to think he was frightening.”Where’s Nicholas?”

“I’ll fetch him, m’lord,” the maid mumbled, her head still down. 

A moment after scurrying off, she appeared with Nicholas, whom Harry marched upstairs. “Mr Watson,” he set Nicholas out in front of him. “Nicholas is a footman here. And a very fine one at that.”

Mr. Watson smiled a bit. “And you thought I would be put off by that?”

Harry continued onward, cutting off any chance of Nicholas talking. “He’s done correspondence courses. He’s very adept.”

Mr. Watson shooed Harry off. “So, young man. This is what you were keeping from me?”

Nicholas looked down. “It was, sir.”

Mr. Watson chuckled. “Well, my family boasts many who worked in service. There’s no shame in it, no shame at all. Perhaps we can speak somewhere privately?”

Harry glowed. “Right in here.” 

He led them into the library and stood by the door, lest any nosy member of his family pass by. Almost immediately, his father approached. 

“Sorry, Papa, you can’t go in there right now?”

“Oh, heavens. Why not?” Lord Holmes-Chapel sighed theatrically.

“Nicholas is in there. He’s being interviewed.”

Lord Holmes-Chapel looked exhausted. “I may not sit in my own library because one of my workers is applying for a new job in there?”

“That’s about the sound of it.”

~

Niall sat down with his cup of tea in the servant’s hall. He didn’t live at the Abbey, instead living in a small cottage nearby, but it was a good place to rest in between ferrying the family and maintaining the cars. The rest of the staff seemed to tolerate his presence, but he did know he was an outsider. He didn’t have to work around the same schedule as the rest, and he could take his meals as he liked. He even had his own space. He knew that would cause distance. 

He listened quietly to the chatter from the various maids and hallboys, until they quieted a bit. It appeared to be Louis, the first footman approaching. Louis was very disliked by nearly all the staff, save for Lady Holmes-Chapel’s cranky lady’s maid, and he had been at the Abbey long enough to know it was because Louis was short and snappy with people, and had a penchant for playing pranks, but rather cruel ones. He was a very small young man, with eyes that could really penetrate when he glared at you. Niall couldn’t say he liked him much either, although he sensed Louis had some sort of chip on his shoulder that kept him nasty. He felt he hadn’t always been. 

“What are we discussing, then?” Louis poured himself a cup of tea and took a sip. It figured, Niall thought, that he put no sugar in it. 

“What business of it is yours, Louis?” Nicholas, the second footman, barked. Niall knew the two of them didn’t like each other, and he could only imagine how Louis had treated Nicholas when he had been hired. 

“Just making conversation.” Louis cocked an eyebrow disapprovingly at Nicholas. 

“Well, you can stay out of it.”

“Nicholas might have a new job!” A housemaid who thought Louis was very dashing but intimidating piped up. 

“Ah, will he? Good luck and good riddance, then.”

Nicholas scowled. 

“Such a long face, Nick. Don’t fall to pieces like you did when your old mum snuffed it.”

Several maids gasped and Nicholas suddenly bolted out of his chair, tackling Louis to the ground. Niall stood up, as well as Mr. Higgins. Louis was fighting back, and he fought like a rat. Punches and kicks were being thrown in all directions, and Mr. Higgins was starting to shout at the top of his lungs for the fighting to cease. Neither party showed any signs of such truce, so Niall got in the middle, taking a scratch to the face from Louis, and hauled Nicholas off him. Mr. Higgins was doing so similarly to Louis, and led him off for a sound reprimand. Nicholas brushed himself off. 

“Calm down, alright?” Niall also brushed himself off. Nicholas stormed off while he heard Higgins dress Louis down. “Well, he had that coming.”

~

Two days later was the day of the much spoken-of garden party, and the servants were absolutely bustling upstairs and downstairs. There wasn’t much Niall could do to help, other than stay out of the way. Every maid was out serving, along with Louis and Nicholas, who both boasted black eyes. The cook, Mrs. Tilly, was screeching at some kitchen maids about some ices, and he stayed still at the table with his book. Suddenly, a trilling noise went off from Mr. Higgin’s office. Mrs. Tilly jumped in fright and clutched her heart, sending a wave of giggles through the kitchen maids. 

“Sounded like a banshee, that did!”

Niall stood up. “It’s Mr. Higgin’s telephone. Is anyone going to get it?”

Everybody stared back at him. It couldn’t be so bad, the telephone. Niall marched into Mr. Higgin’s office and lifted the receiver.

It was a man asking to speak to Mr. Higgins. He was outside frantically supervising all the servants. 

“No, Mr. Higgins is busy, but can I take a message?”

“It is in regards of his employee, Mr. Nicholas Grimshaw. Please tell him Mr. Grimshaw has been accepted into our employment.”

“Has he?” Niall brightened. He had long known about Lord Harry’s project to aid his friend. “Here, please tell me the details, I will pass it along to Mr. Grimshaw.”

After he had written down the details, Niall took off for outside. He didn’t care if it was inappropriate or unseemly, as he simply had to tell Lord Harry immediately. He found Lord Harry chatting with his sister under the large white tent that had been erected in the backyard. 

“M’lord, I’ve got some news!” Niall waved the scrap of paper that held the message at Lord Harry. Lady Gemma looked startled and took her leave to mingle with other guests, while Niall moved in closer to Lord Harry. “He’s gotten the job, m’lord!”

Lord Harry opened up in a big wide-faced grin and gasped in excitement. “He did? Oh, Horan! This way!” He led Niall through to the servant’s tent, where Nicholas was hurriedly collecting another tray. “Nicholas! Mr. Watson has rung! You’ve got the job!”

Nicholas also gasped and shoved his tray at a maid. “Take this, take it!” He ran over and hugged both Niall and Lord Harry in pure excitement. Mr. Higgins approached and looked them over. 

“Ahem.”

Nicholas dropped from the hug and turned to Mr. Higgins. Niall felt Lord Harry slip his hand into his own. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s just that, I’ve got another job.”

“And we can celebrate that. After the garden party.” 

“Of course, sir.”

Both Nicholas and Mr. Higgins departed, and Niall looked back down at Lord Harry’s hand clasped in his own. 

“M’lord, I...”

“May I have everyone’s attention?” Lord Holmes-Chapel suddenly called out to the entirety of the party. His face looked incredibly strained, and Lord Harry dropped his hand from Niall’s and went over to his family. 

Lord Holmes-Chapel continued, his hands shaking as he read from a telegram. “I regret to inform everyone here, but we are at war with Germany.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is now 1916, the war is in full force, and Niall and Lord Harry both have some feelings about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of scenes here that are quite a bit different from the storyline. I had to improvise because the original character of Sybil trained to be an nurse.

1916

Harry took a bite of his egg, staring blankly at the rest of his plate. His father was sipping his tea while reading the paper, and Gemma was not yet downstairs. He’d gotten a letter in the post. The letters had been numerous over the past two years, and each letter gave him a pang of guilt in his stomach. They were all about boys, boys his age, that he knew from the seasons, that had all died at war. He remembered each one, from the ones that made him laugh when he shouldn’t, to the ones he knew would have a million girls hanging off them one day. Good chaps. And they were all gone. 

He felt awful. He wished desperately to be of a help. So did his father, really. In fact, he knew nothing bothered Papa more than being the embarrassment among the other nobility, because his son was a coward that wouldn’t enlist. It wasn’t that, though. Harry desperately wanted to help. If he was there, maybe he could do something, something that could save some of these boys from all dying. It was his mother, though, that forbid it. Nightly, he could hear screeching from his parents’ room, debating whether he would be allowed to enlist. His mother was adamant he would not because he was her only son, while his father argued they’d get him anyway and then it would be in a shameful way. It’s not that Harry wanted to exactly go to war. His mother was right in her argument that he was too soft: he didn’t even know how to boil a kettle. The idea of shooting a man, even an enemy, seemed too frightening. He supposed most wouldn’t think that way, but those German boys were probably terrified. They had mothers. It all seemed so terrible and he wished he could instead perhaps be a doctor on the field. He didn’t know much about it but he assumed he’d be a bit tucked away, safer. Regardless, his mother wouldn’t hear a thing about it. 

~

“Just ease it like that, there we are.” Niall watched Lady Gemma attempt to move the clutch of the car. She had started wanting some independence and had asked permission to learn from Niall. Lord Holmes-Chapel had wavered a bit, but decided it was a good thing for her to know and allowed her to learn. It was something to keep her mind off of everything. 

“What do you think, Horan? Am I getting any better?”

“Well...” Niall laughed a bit. “Better than you were before. All the way to the floor now, come on.”

“It won’t go, Horan.” Lady Gemma gave the clutch a hard push.

“It will. Just have to be kind with it.”

Niall watched as Lady Gemma managed to get it to the floor, and looked up at him, glowing. He liked Lady Gemma. She was rather cold and stern at first but she was a good soul. She, much like her brother, did not seem to treat him as a lowly person. In fact, he almost liked the fact that during their lessons, he got to boss her around a little bit. 

“Look at that, Horan!”

“Be putting me out of a job, soon.” Niall smiled. 

Lady Gemma put the car into gear and started it slowly down the road. “Won’t the call-up do that, Horan?”

Niall wavered with his response. The war infuriated him. He knew most people would find his opinion shocking, but he didn’t think there was any reason to be fighting about this. The struggles in Russia, those were real reasons for uprisings. Ireland, as well. Not this monstrous excuse to kill young men. He and Lord Harry had discussed it a bit, one day. When he had told Lord Harry he wouldn’t go and he didn’t care if it made him a coward, Lord Harry had looked him straight in the eye and said “good.” He knew Lord Harry wanted to help, himself, but he was glad Lord Harry respected his opinion. He was also glad he didn’t want him to go. 

Lord Harry and him had only grown closer over these terrible years. He came to the garage nearly every day, at some point, and they could talk forever. Niall hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself, but it had been four years and he knew how he felt about Lord Harry. He was funny and clever and had the strangest ways of making Niall laugh. The more he thought about Lord Harry, the more he realized just how long he’d been in love with him. Funny thing was, he was quite certain Lord Harry felt at least somewhat the same. For that to be all thrown away, just because of a war, well, Niall couldn’t stand it. 

Niall turned back to Gemma. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

~

Harry had gotten another disturbing letter. It was a friend he’d known for many years. He was two years younger than Harry. He’d gotten the telegram while he was in the front hall, and as he looked around and saw nobody was there, he broke down into tears. He tried to count how many young men were now gone, and he couldn’t. More terrifyingly, he knew more were to come, with one of them possibly being Horan. Of all the boys to lose, he couldn’t lose Horan. He was his best friend, although nobody knew that but him. 

Unbeknownst to Harry, his father had approached him from behind. He felt a hand on his shoulder as he read the telegram in Harry’s hand. 

“I’m sorry, Harry.”

“I feel so useless, Papa! Just sitting at home while everyone I know dies.” Harry tried to wipe his face of tears. 

“We’ll go talk to Mama,” Harry’s father was trying to be so kind. 

“But I don’t want to kill anyone. I thought, I thought I could be a doctor. Help men in the trenches.”

“We can see if there are any positions.” Harry felt his father guide him into the tea room, where his mother was. “Anne? We need to talk about the boy.”

Anne looked up and frowned. “Desmond, please, we said we wouldn’t talk about this right now.”

“Harry has said himself he wants to take part.”

Anne instantly looked upset. “Desmond. I won’t have it! I won’t have my baby taken away from me. Our son! Your heir!”

“I’m aware of what he is, Anne, but we have to respect what he wants!”

Harry was suddenly babbling. “Please, Mama. I don’t want to kill anyone, but I’ve got to go. Got to help. Please.”

“Harry has suggested he train to be a doctor.”

“Like our old footman? And where is he now, Desmond? The Somme? It’s just as violent. Just as many doctors die.”

“Please, Mama. I can’t do this anymore.”

Anne was relenting. “What if...what if we talked to the hospital? They may need another doctor on staff. I...I won’t let you leave me. You can help at home. I won’t let my baby leave me, I won’t.” She let a tear of her own trickle down her face.

Harry sat down and put his arm around his mother. His father stood still. 

“That’s it, then, Anne? Those are the conditions?”

Anne nodded. “Those are it.”

“I’ll call the hospital in the morning.”

~

Harry’s father worked hard at finding a position for Harry. The hospital in the village kept insisting they did not need another doctor on staff, and more nurses would suffice, but Lord Holmes-Chapel got desperate. He knew the head doctor quite well, and insisted there must be a position. The doctor relented and agreed to shuffle some boys and get a spot for Harry in a training program. It was unusual to send boys directly to the hospital to work, but he did agree. He had known and cared for Harry since birth and knew Harry would be willing. 

Now that that was sorted, Harry began to feel concerned about his abilities. He’d be away from home for training, and he couldn’t sort out how to do anything. He’d be left entirely to his own devices and he couldn’t bear being unable to even boil himself a cup of tea. The water always showed up already boiled whenever he had tea. He didn’t want his mother to worry about him while he was away. 

Harry made his way downstairs to the kitchen. The maids were beginning to act less shocked to see him, although he still received a chorus of “m’lord” as he passed. 

“Mrs. Tilly?”

“Oh, m’lord,” Mrs. Tilly jumped away from her soup pot. “What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you could help me learn how to cook a few things. Very simple things. Toast, an egg. But...I’d like it to be a surprise. I want to show Mama that I’ll be okay, when I go off for training. But please, send me away if I get in the way of your cooking, ever. I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Well...” Mrs. Tilly wavered. “Alright. Suppose we should start with something like tea.”

The kitchen maids had a giggle then shut up when Mrs. Tilly glared at them.

“No, it is funny that I can’t make it. But I don’t want to be made a fool when I go off, so let’s fix it now.” Harry smiled expectantly at them, and they smiled shyly back.

“Right,” Mrs. Tilly got a large black kettle out of the cupboard. “Let’s get started. Go fill the kettle with water. I’m sure you can manage that.”

“Anyone can do that.” Harry lifted the kettle, which was heavier than he thought. He went over to the sink and opened the valve. Water burst out faster than he expected and sprayed all over him.

Mrs. Tilly sniffed. “Apparently not everyone.”

~

Niall rested against outside the main hall of the Abbey. There was some sort of concert to raise money for the war effort taking place inside that Lady Anne and Lady Gemma had helped arrange, and Niall decided to have a listen to it outside the grand hall while he waited to take Old Lady Holmes-Chapel home. There was a variety of songs on the program, some which sounded nice and others which were not so well-performed (perhaps Lady Gemma’s falsetto was a bit much), but it was nice to hear the music nevertheless. It wasn’t something he got to hear a lot of. 

Suddenly, during a break in the music, there was a clatter of commotion. He heard Lord Holmes-Chapel shouting, and Niall steeled himself for the worst. A moment later, two women in grey coats carrying small baskets flounced out the door, looking very haughty and self-righteous. One of them approached Niall when they spotted him and handed him a small white feather. A, the mark of a coward. Niall smiled at them and nodded his head. 

“I’m sorry, luvs, but I think you’ll see I’m already in uniform.”

“Wrong kind,” one of them barked. 

Lord Holmes-Chapel approached the doorway. 

“AND NEVER COME BACK HERE,” he turned and saw Niall. “Oh, Horan. You too. Don’t let them bother you.”

Niall nodded. “I won’t, m’lord."

Niall peeked into the hall. Lord Harry spotted Niall and weakly held up a matching little white feather with a smile.

~

The day of Harry’s departure was fast approaching, and he had been working very hard to try and help Mrs. Tilly around the kitchen, although he felt he was probably more of a bother at times. There had been some fairly disastrous dishes, but he’d gotten a little better and Mrs. Tilly was now helping him through the complicated process of a small cake. He hoped to serve it after dinner, to show his mother he was ready. Of all the things he had tried to make, baking had come the most naturally. 

Horan had puttered downstairs and was watching Harry try to ease the cake out of the oven. He was trying to hold back a laugh and Harry made a mock scowling face at him. 

“Just you wait, Horan.”

Mrs. Tilly shushed him. “Careful. Taking it out of the pan is the hardest part.”

Harry concentrated on sliding the cake out carefully. It came out in one piece, bringing a round of “ooh’s” and “aah’s” from everyone in the room. Harry couldn’t stop smiling. He’d done it himself. He knew his mother would have faith now. 

~

Niall walked Lord Harry to the courtyard of the training hospital in Chester, carrying several of Lord Harry’s suitcases. A group of wounded soldiers were out on the front lawn doing exercises to the clipped tone of a nurse. Niall watched Lord Harry cringe slightly when he saw it, but he had better get used to it. They approached the stone corridor leading inside the hospital and stopped to say their goodbyes. Niall felt his stomach twist up. Two months without Lord Harry. He knew Lord Harry would be staying in Holmes Chapel after, but still. It was the war. Anything could happen. 

Lord Harry broke his thoughts. 

“It’ll be hard to see you go, Horan. My last link with home.” Lord Harry pushed the strand of hair that Niall knew so well off his forehead. 

Niall swallowed and took off his hat. “Not as hard as it will be for me, m’lord.”

Lord Harry frowned slightly. “Horan.”

“I know I shouldn’t say it, m’lord, but I can’t...” Niall almost petered off. “I don’t think I can hold it in anymore.”

“I wish you would.”

Niall watched Lord Harry’s face. Had he gotten it wrong? He was already this far, at this point he’d might as well say it. 

“I’ve told myself and I’ve told myself, that it wouldn’t work. And I know it seems impossible. I know your status, and mine, but times are changing, and after the war is over we’ll be living in a very different world. I won’t be a chauffeur forever. I’ll make something of myself.” Niall looked down. He suddenly couldn’t bear to see Lord Harry’s face. He’d wanted to say this for so long, but maybe it was still the wrong time. Maybe he should have never said it. 

Lord Harry took a moment, then responded. “I know you will.”

Niall tried to look properly into Lord Harry’s green eyes. “Then bet on me. I promise to devote every waking moment to your happiness.”

Lord Harry’s eyes were wandering off. “Horan, I’m terribly flattered.”

Niall felt like crying. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because flattered is a word rich people use when they’re about to say no.” Niall wanted to be anywhere but trapped in this corridor, but he also desperately didn’t want Lord Harry to leave.

“That sounds a bit more like you, Horan.”

Niall couldn’t tell if Lord Harry was trying to lighten the mood or not. “Please don’t make fun of me. It’s cost me everything I’ve got to say this.”

Lord Harry stared at the ground like Niall was. He pushed the toe of his shoe slightly in the dirt. 

“Right,” Niall put his hat back on. “I’ll be gone when you return.”

Lord Harry suddenly looked up, a flicker of panic in his eyes. “Why would you be gone?” 

“I’ll have to be, when your family’s heard what I’ve said.”

Lord Harry furrowed his brow. “They won’t hear it from me. Don’t go, Horan.”

~

The Somme

It was twilight and the air was finally still. Louis walked out of his bunker to have a quick smoke in the trenches. 

Signing up to be a doctor was never supposed to be like this. He had expected violence and gore, but never to be living it. He thought doctors were shipped off to somewhere safe. 

Louis had signed up for the war shortly after his argument with Nicholas. He knew everybody hated him, and Higgins was close to firing him anyway. He was going to make something for himself in the war, but it was nothing but pure hell. The days were wearing away at him and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He thought back to the Abbey, so safe. 

Louis tried shakily to light his cigarette. The last bastion he had. It was quiet now, but how long would that last? It wouldn’t. By daybreak there would be death and debris everywhere again. Louis rubbed a finger over his lighter. He’d heard about wounds that could get you out of battle. Million pound wounds. Louis took one more puff of his cigarette then put it out. He lit his lighter a few times repetitively, then let the flame dance. Nobody else was around. Nobody would know what he’d done. Louis swallowed and lifted his still flickering lighter above the trench line. 

There was a crack in the night as a lone shot hit its target.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war continues to rage on, leading everyone to understand the grisly reality of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear with me for this chapter. It has a lot of Louis and the unfortunate passing of Zayn in it, but I tried to write it carefully and it won't happen again. It will go back to mostly Niall and Harry. Zayn is here playing the role of Lieutenant Edward Courtenay and I hope I did them both justice.

April, 1917  
Lady Anne removed her bracelet from her wrist and replace it with another, holding her arm out to her lady’s maid to close the clasp. 

“Have you heard from Louis, recently, Teasdale? Such a shame he can’t recuperate here in Holmes Chapel.”

Teasdale attached the clasp. She was Louis’ last link to the Abbey, and the only one who could put up with his cattiness. It mirrored her own in many ways.

“It’s Corporal Tomlinson now, my lady. And the hospital is only for officers.”

“Of course. Such a shame though, it would be nice to have him close by.”

“He’s written. He’d like to come work at the hospital, ideally, once he’s healed.” Teasdale handed Lady Anne her perfume. 

“Oh, he won’t be going back to the front?”

“Not with the state of his hand.”

Lady Anne frowned. “It doesn’t seem right, does it?”

Teasdale nodded knowingly. “It is. It’s such a shame the doctor won’t have him, even though your estate has heavily funded much of the hospital.”

Lady Anne looked troubled. “No, it doesn’t. I’ll see what I can do.”

Teasdale smirked slightly. “I was sure you would know what was best to do.”

~

Louis approached the gates of the Abbey. It had been three years, but everything appeared to be the same. Nothing ever seemed to truly change at the Abbey, even as the world changed around it. He was only there for a short visit with the staff, although he imagined he would not get the warmest welcome. Louis never meant to be so nasty to the staff, particularly Nicholas or the young kitchen maids, but they all judged him. He felt defensive and angry language leapt out of his mouth at any slightly backhanded comment thrown at him. Before long, it was normal for everyone to hate him, but he did his job well so he had remained. Ms. Teasdale was much the same way. A hair and clothing extraordinaire, she was adored by Lady Holmes-Chapel, but despised by everyone downstairs. She was sharp in her opinions and very much enjoyed gossip. To be quite frank, so had Louis, so they seemed an equal pair and enjoyed each other’s company. 

There was one more thing about Louis which kept the rest of the staff from liking him. He had never outwardly said it, but it had become clear to the staff early into his employment that he was fond of the young Lord Harry upstairs. He had been young himself, just a teenaged boy when he was hired, but his attraction had been obvious to everyone. It had isolated him almost instantly. Louis’ feelings for the young lord had faded almost as quickly as they had come, but the impression his schoolgirlish crush had left on the staff destroyed every other chance of a friendship he may have made. It had embittered Louis deeply. 

All except Ms. Teasdale. She’d fought his corner to Lady Holmes-Chapel and managed to swing him a position at the hospital. Louis was a little unclear on how she had managed it, but he supposed the family had a lot of sway over the community. 

Louis went to the back courtyard and lit a cigarette. 

Ms. Teasdale approached him and lit a cigarette of her own. “There you are. You had me a bit worried.”

“Worried? You? Never.” Louis took a long drag of his cigarette. “So what’s the news around here?”

“There’s no footmen now. Lord Holmes-Chapel is desperately searching for one.”

“Did the new one get called up?”

“He did. I’m sure Dr. Peterson is happy to have your services.” 

“It’s Major Peterson now, but yes, he seems to.”

Ms. Teasdale smirked. “You’re welcome. And what about your hand?

Louis pulled the glove off his left hand. It still looked disgusting, even though it had been healing for some time. Ms. Teasdale covered her mouth as she looked it over. 

“Oh, my lord.”

“Well, it’s done its job, hasn’t it?” Louis pulled his glove back on. “Now, I’d like a cup of tea.”

Ms. Teasdale led him inside. Louis surveyed the servant’s hall. It looked the same. Almost soothingly the same.

“I can’t imagine Mr. Higgins trying to manage without any footmen. Like a ringmaster without any ponies.”

The head of female staff stopped Louis. “We won’t be having any of that, Louis.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t answer to you anymore, I answer to Major Peterson. And I’m just here for a visit, so never you mind.”

~

Niall opened the car to let out several relatives of the family. Lady Holmes-Chapel was arranging a dinner and some family from London had agreed to come down. Lady Holmes-Chapel motioned for Niall to come over once she had greeted her loved ones. 

“Horan, could you please run down to the hospital and remind Lord Harry he is to be at supper tonight? Tell him I mean it this time. They’re working him too hard down there.”

Niall nodded. “I will. I think he enjoys it, though."

Lady Holmes-Chapel scowled. “Please tell him to be home in time to change.

Niall nodded and started the car. The drive to the hospital wasn’t far but it was far enough for him to muse over his thoughts. He and Lord Harry had mended what had happened in the courtyard, and they were back to being friends as they had been before. Niall hadn’t given up though. The next time Lord Harry saw Niall, when he picked him up to take him home for the first time since his training, he had expressed he didn’t want their friendship to change and was glad to see Niall hadn’t left. Later that night, he had come out to the garage to talk and told Niall not to be embarrassed of himself. Lord Harry had been odd and cryptic about himself that night but very sweet, and after that everything returned to how it was. It gave him hope that maybe Harry did have feelings, or at the very least was like Niall. 

Niall came to the hospital a lot nowadays, not to bother Lord Harry but to bring him his lunch or relay messages from Lady Holmes-Chapel. He pulled up close to the hospital and came inside. It was incredibly busy, and he searched around for Lord Harry. He never much liked being in the hospital. It was too sad, but he supposed that was the reality. He found him hurriedly dispensing a cup of pills to an officer with blown off limbs. 

“Hello m’lord. Your mother has sent me to remind you about supper tonight.”

Lord Harry looked stressed. “Oh, for heaven sake. I won’t be able to, I’m needed here.” 

Niall ignored Lord Harry’s snappy tone. “I’m sorry, m’lord.”

“Whatever is the point of all of Mama’s dinners and events, anyway?” 

“Perhaps it isn’t so terrible to relax, just for a little bit.”

Lord Harry made a growly noise and pushed up pieces of hair falling into his face. “Alright, alright. Corporal, can you please give Lieutenant Malik his medicine for me? I’m a bit indisposed.”

Louis nodded and headed towards the soldier. Niall thought it was curious that here in war, what had once been lord and footman were now equals. He rather liked the thought. 

“Happy to be back and serving under Major Peterson, Louis?”

“Corporal Tomlinson. But yes, as much as I can be with my hand in this state.”

Niall glanced at the presumed Lieutenant Malik sitting upright in the bed in the corner. He didn’t look like he was from England, but somewhere Niall couldn’t truly imagine. Maybe India. He had dark, soft looking hair and rather doll-like lips, nose, and cheekbones, but the rest of his face was wrapped in thick bandages. Gas had gotten him, most likely. 

~

Louis had got to chatting with Lieutenant Malik after Corporal Styles had been shuffled off by the pushy chauffeur back home. He had been serving in the 4th Cavalry Division in France and had been blinded by poison gas. He had learned a lot of English in school before coming to Europe to fight because he had been interested in being a teacher before the war and thought it might have been useful. He was a terribly nice chap, and Louis had to say, terribly handsome, even with his eyes covered up. 

Lieutenant Malik scratched his cheek a bit absently. “Never do any of that again, though.”

Louis wavered. “You don’t know that. There have been cases of gas blindness wearing off before.”

Lieutenant Malik’s mouth drooped further. “Rarely. I’ve been like this for ages, I highly doubt there will be a change now. No point in having hope for that anymore. Might as well give up now.”

Louis was unsure on what to say to sooth the poor boy. He understood that pessimism. There was a letter waiting on his lap for the Lieutenant but he hadn’t wanted to read it when it had arrived. Perhaps now was the time to change the subject and try the letter. 

“Did you want to hear from home?”

The Lieutenant nodded. “Alright.”

Louis began to read the letter for Lieutenant. It was a bit confusing at times. What had probably once been a perfect letter had been butchered and rewritten in English by an English Captain so it could be understood to those reading it to the Lieutenant. It was from his mother, and talked incessantly about Lieutenant Malik’s siblings. All sisters, he thought. Lieutenant Malik’s first name was Zain, it seemed. He continued on with the letter, until Lieutenant Malik raised his hand.

“Stop.”

“Who is Doniya?”

“My eldest sister. My mother is saying she is looking for work. I wanted to support my parents once they became old. I don’t want it to be her job.”

“Oh, I’m...”

“I shouldn’t bore you.” 

“It’s alright, perfectly alright.” Louis hadn’t been this nice to anyone for ages. 

“I don’t want to feel like another person my family has to support.”

“Then don’t let them. You’re not a victim, don’t let them turn you into one.”

Lieutenant Malik smiled slightly. “When you say that, I nearly believe you.”

“You ought to believe me. I don’t let myself be the victim, even though everyone has always pushed me around because I’m different.” Louis couldn’t believe what was spilling out of his mouth. The Lieutenant suddenly seemed so safe. 

“Why is that, Corporal?”

Louis had gotten himself in too deep. “Never mind. Just, don’t lose all hope, alright?”

Lieutenant Malik found Louis’ knee and rested his hand on it gently. Louis rested his own hand on top of Lieutenant Malik’s. He had other things to do, but this felt more important. 

~

Harry was relieved to be back at work after last night’s hectic supper. There had been too many people, too much family as well as Gemma’s new beau from London. That wasn’t uncommon at the Abbey, but with such little staff, it seemed far too much like an unnecessary imposition on them. In fact, it completely had been. Higgins had overworked himself due to no footmen and ended up collapsing in the dining hall, spilling gravy all over Gemma’s dress. Harry had attended to him until Major Peterson arrived, and he was going to be alright, but it just showed how ridiculous these shows of extravagance were. 

The hospital had somehow seemed easier to manage, even with all the trauma and horrors. It had been a quiet morning helping Lieutenant Malik navigate a small obstacle course with his cane outside. He had been accompanied by Corporal Tomlinson, and was pleasantly surprised by his wittiness as they guided the Lieutenant. It was calm, and the fresh air was doing them all some good. Even Lieutenant Malik was in better spirits, as his eye bandages were off and he could now see some light from the sun come through. Both of them nattered instructions at the Lieutenant in between chatting. 

Major Peterson approached. “Lieutenant Malik!”

Harry and Corporal Tomlinson stopped and saluted Major Peterson, while Lieutenant Malik simply paused. 

“Well done, you’re doing very well.”

“Thanks only to Corporal Tomlinson. Well, and Corporal Styles.”

“You’ll be pleased to hear, then, that you’ll be moving to a convalescent facility in Congleton.”

Lieutenant Malik looked shocked. “What?”

“They’ll be better trained to help you adjust to your condition there. You’re no longer ill.”

“But sir, please. I must stay here. I’m getting help here.”

“Lieutenant, neither Corporal Styles nor Tomlinson have the required skills to continue your treatment, and they have a lot of other soldiers to help.”

Lieutenant Malik looked desperate. “Please, just not yet.”

Corporal Tomlinson looked almost as anxious as Lieutenant Malik. “Sir, if I may just say..”

“That’s enough. All three of you should understand any beds available need to be filled.” Major Peterson gestured at Harry and Corporal Tomlinson. “I’ll see you both in my office.”

Harry seethed with anger. He did not know much about the young man but knew he wouldn’t resist so much for no reason. Corporal Tomlinson seemed just as adamant. They brought Lieutenant Malik inside and followed Major Peterson to his office. Corporal Tomlinson glanced at Harry and grimaced a bit sadly. Harry gave a sympathetic look in return. 

“Listen,” Corporal Tomlinson cut in as soon as they reached the office. “I believe Lieutenant Malik might be depressed. He’s...he’s just not well still.”

Major Peterson positively bristled. “I will not allow other soldiers to be without care because one junior officer is depressed!”

Corporal Tomlinson looked like he’d been punched in the stomach. Harry cut in. “Listen, if you’d like to know what I’d think...”

“Why would I want to know what you think, Corporal? You may have the advantage over the rest of us at some Mayfair ball, but in this hospital, I decide the proceedings. Please prepare him to go.”

~

Harry arrived at the hospital the next day to find it in a sombre mood. He had noticed a car outside that he didn’t recognize, and inside there was no new soldier and no Lieutenant Malik. He looked around for Corporal Tomlinson. He always knew exactly what was going on in the hospital, even though he hadn’t been working there long at all. When he did find him, though, he was in for a shock. He was in the apothecary, sitting on the floor against the wall, sobbing. 

“Louis?” Harry tried tentatively. It didn’t seem right to use formal titles. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s gone.” Corporal Tomlinson’s Northern accent was stronger than usual. “He’s gone and offed ‘imself.”

“Offed himself? Who has?”

“Lieutenant Malik.” Corporal Tomlinson kept sobbing. 

Harry covered his mouth with his hand. “Oh, God. No.”

“Gone. Because he wasn’t ready. Because he was sick.”

Harry was overcome with rage and grief. It shouldn’t have been this way. 

“Louis, I’m going to go talk to Major Peterson right this instant.”

“Don’t bother, Lord Harreh,” Louis also was slipping into the old manor of addressing Harry. “I’ve already tried.”

“I’ll give it a shot anyway.” Harry marched down the hall to Major Peterson’s office and burst in. “Major Peterson, a word?”

Major Peterson held up a hand. “Listen, Corporal, I know what you’re going to say. He simply must have smuggled his razor blade to bed. There was nothing we could do."

“Nothing we could do? It is because you made him leave!”

“Of course, this is a tragedy, Corporal, but it could not be avoided. We do not have the room here to be a convalescent home.”

“This whole town is full of room! I’m living in a giant home full of empty rooms!” Harry closed his mouth the moment he said it. Major Peterson looked pensively at Harry.

“You don’t suppose...”

“I...”

“Would your family allow the Abbey to become a convalescent home?"

“I really don’t...”

“Perhaps I can bring it up to them. You do want to help, don’t you, Corporal?”

Harry nodded. 

~

Lord Harry had forgotten his lunch again, and Lady Holmes-Chapel was insistent he have it. Niall enjoyed seeing Lord Harry midday, even if he was very busy, so he often silently hoped Lord Harry had forgotten his lunch. He often did. 

A whole new truck of soldiers had arrived that day, and Niall carefully weaved between them to reach Lord Harry, who was hurriedly directing soldiers to their beds. 

“Her ladyship told me to bring this to you.”

Lord Harry wavered. “Oh, I haven’t time to eat that. Thank you, though, Horan.”

“Maybe a bit later.”

“Maybe.”

“Is all this what you expected?”

“In a way. But much, much worse. Far more savage, and violent. But I finally feel like I’m helping. That must be a good thing. I don’t suppose you could help me lift this gentleman into bed?”

Niall slipped the officer’s arm around his neck and helped Lord Harry guide him into bed. “Would you ever want to go back to your old way of life? After all this?”

“Oh, no, no. I couldn’t possibly. There we are, Captain, comfortable?”

Niall moved aside to let Lord Harry keep working. Watching him work so passionately, Niall had hope Lord Harry could free himself from his aristocratic shackles. And he could certainly keep hoping Lord Harry would come around on him. 

~

“It’s an absolutely ludicrous idea!” The Dowager Countess sniffed and took a sip of tea. 

“I thought you’d be thrilled, Granny. Major Peterson and I think it could work.”

“This is your home!”

“Exactly. It’s just the place for soldiers to rest and recuperate in peace.”

“What if things were to go wrong? Are we to be having men needing amputations in the kitchens?”

Lady Anne looked stiffly at Harry. “Higgins is not even well yet, Harry. We don’t have the resources to care for soldiers, even if we had staff move in. And we do have our own lives to manage.”

“But we could do so much!” Harry huffed loudly. His family was incorrigible. There were men dying by the thousands, and they were concerned about being slightly uncomfortable. 

The Dowager Countess slammed her cane down. “I will not have it. I will not have my home filled with strange men prodding about. Who knows what could happen? They could rob you all blind.”

Lady Anne bristled. If there was one thing Harry knew about Granny and his mother, it was that they chose to disagree on everything. 

“I will remind you, this is my home now, Desmond and mine. We will make the decisions.”

Harry prayed silently. If they went to war with each other, his mother would grow so stubborn that within three days they would indeed have a house full of soldiers. 

“Oh, I see. I am just a guest in this home, a stranger with no say.”

Lady Anne took a short sip of her own tea. “If you put it like that, yes.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall gets his call-up for the army and takes it badly.

The entire house was in a state of chaos. Wherever there could possibly be a flurry of activity, there was. Beds were presently being moved into the home at a rapid pace, and it was becoming more difficult by the minute to organize them into all the rooms. 

Harry glanced around the library. Gemma tapped her fingers on the arm of the sofa. Mama and Papa were also sitting, looking both attentive and concerned. Granny was sniffing and ignoring the family. Major Peterson was presently trying to sway them out of several rooms in order to create more rooms for the soldiers, and the family was tense. 

Gemma tried to assert her opinion. “We could give them the...”

“No, I think the library is perfect for a recreation room.”

Lady Anne bristled. “Where are we to sit? This is the most used room of the house.”

“We can screen off the smaller library.”

Lady Anne raised her eyebrows and sniffed similarly to Granny. She had insisted on the hospital to spite Granny at the time, but now it didn’t seem like such a grand plan. 

Major Peterson raised his eyebrows in return. “We could perhaps give you the boudoir as well...I did want it but we don’t have to. I suppose.”

Lady Anne lifted up her teacup and took a haughty sip. “How kind and gracious of you.”

Harry had been bothered with the situation himself. “Major Peterson, are you quite sure this must only be for officers? We have a lot of boys coming back from the trenches who are right from our community, and surely they need rest too.”

Major Peterson sighed. He seemed exhausted by the family. “This is meant to compliment the officer’s hospital.”

“I don’t think we can entirely hold that rule up, can we?”

Granny rolled her eyes, as theatrical as usual. “It simply would not work. These men need rest. That could not occur if there was mixing of ranks.”

Major Peterson changed the subject. “Oh, yes. Corporal, for the time being, you will be in charge of the affairs at the Abbey, as I will be busy at the hospital. We’ll have to make you an acting sergeant so the officers will respect you."

Harry blinked. “Me? All of the Abbey?”

“You don’t think you can handle the responsibility, Sergeant?” Major Peterson emphasized the word in such a way that it dug into Harry like a knife. 

“I...I suppose so.”

“You know the home well.”

Harry nodded. He didn’t particularly know the servant’s quarters well at all, and barely knew some parts of his own living space. Nor was he particularly fond of ordering people about, although he realized, with some chagrin, that Major Peterson assumed that was a skill Harry had honed by now. Harry felt very small and inexperienced, suddenly, but couldn’t bear to tell Major Peterson he wasn’t up to it alone. A short glance at his mother confirmed she was also dubious about this plan. 

Granny got up and started her way into the hall, weaving between all the beds still waiting to be moved. Harry got up and followed. 

“Granny?”

Granny stopped. “Yes, my dear?”

“Different ranks can relax together. Please, believe me.”

“It’s simply too much to ask, my dear. I’m going to go home and rest away from this cacophony for awhile. Could you please tell Higgins to have Horan bring the car around?”

Harry nodded and wandered back to the library. Gemma had risen and was looking around. She looked lost.

“Plenty to do, Gemma.”

Gemma scowled in return. 

~

Niall entered the servant’s hall, already bustling with conversation about all the changes upstairs. The changes felt good to him. Lord Harry was going to be working at the Abbey instead of the hospital, and having him home all the time again was a relief. He knew the hospital wasn’t far, but it was still distance. 

Mr. Higgins looked up as Niall entered.

“Ah, Horan. A letter came for you, actually,” Mr. Higgins got up and went to the mantle and shuffled through some papers. “Here we are.”

Niall took the letter. He never got mail to the Abbey. He glanced around the servant’s hall. It suddenly seemed too full of people, people who surely would ask what the clearly ominous letter was about. Niall nodded at Higgins as thanks and left for the garage. The garage was for him, and him alone, and Niall wanted privacy.

Niall opened the letter and looked at it. It was what he thought. It was his call-up. Part of him felt like hitting something, but he had expected this. As much as he didn’t want to get the letter at all, he had been working on a plan. 

~

Harry took a bite of toast. It was going to be a very busy day, as the soldiers were going to start arriving by luncheon, but breakfast was a chance to relax. Higgins was chatting to Papa while he served himself some food, and Gemma was reading her paper. 

Lord Holmes-Chapel sat down. “Higgins has just told me we are now to lose our chauffeur. He’s been called up finally. I’m almost amazed it’s taken this long, a strong young man like that.” Lord Holmes-Chapel sighed and looked sorry for himself. “We’ll have to find an older gentleman to replace him.”

Harry put his toast down. His stomach was instantly knotted. He glanced over at Gemma, who looked almost gleeful. 

“No, Papa, I could do it. Horan’s trained me well.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Gemma, I won’t...” Lord Holmes-Chapel looked up from his own paper. “Where’s Harry gone?”

Harry was already running outside to the garage. This couldn’t happen. Horan had been on his mind every day since he had started his training. He’d been scared that day, in the corridor, because Horan had spoke so honestly to him. He hadn’t been clear on his own feelings about Horan, but as he poured his heart out to Harry, he’d realized how much Horan meant to him. Harry’s attraction to men was something he hated to admit to himself, let alone anyone else, and hearing someone else say it had scared him off. But he knew, deep down, that Horan was someone who would love him and care for him more than anyone else possibly could. The thought of throwing his life away, though, was too daunting, and he’d never broached the topic with Horan because of his own cowardice. But now that Horan was to be leaving, Harry had a chance to redeem himself. 

He caught himself a few metres away from the garage and took a few deep breaths and composed himself, slicking back the many hairs that had fallen astray. He sauntered towards the garage as if he was in no hurry. Horan had his head deep in the engine of the car, tinkering with it in his dirty tan work jumpsuit he reserved for particularly disgusting jobs.

“Horan.”

Horan poked his head out from the car. “Hello, m’lord. Rather early.”

“We’ve got a lot of work to do today so I thought I would come out and say hello now.” Harry smiled. 

“Hullo yourself.” Niall also smiled and went back to his work.

“Papa told me that you’ve been called up.” Harry frowned. 

“Don’t look so serious. It will be alright.”

“I know you’d think me heartless if I didn’t. And how do you know that?” Harry came along to the front of the car to see what Horan was doing.

“I have no intention of fighting, m’lord.”

“But you’ll have to. You’ll have no choice.”

“I do have the choice of being a conscientious objector. Don’t worry.”

Harry frowned harder. This conversation wasn’t going how he had hoped. “Then you’ll get thrown in prison.”

“I imagine I’ll be more comfortable in prison than at Arras.”

Harry scuffed his boot into the dirt. “When will you tell them, then?”

“In my own good time.”

“Pardon?”

“I’ll go through all the steps like everyone else. I’ll train. Then, when we’re on parade, I’ll shout it to God and the world. That ought to get attention.”

Harry was upset with this. As much as he wanted Horan to be safe, he didn’t want him locked away. The moment to pour out his feelings to Horan had been spoiled as well, as guilty as that thought made him. “Well, then you’ll have a record for the rest of your life.”

“At least I’ll have a life.”

~

Niall had stayed late at the Abbey. He hadn’t felt like leaving for the night, partly because he was upset with Lord Harry and didn’t want to stew with his thoughts alone. He had thought Lord Harry understood his views on the war and the oppressive hand of English rule over his people, but apparently not. It had felt like Lord Harry valued honour in this stupid battle more than Niall’s life. Maybe he didn’t, but it felt like it. Mostly, though, Niall had stuck around because there had been exciting news in Russia and he enjoyed sharing the news with the rest of the staff, most of whom didn’t know much about it. 

A young maid listened intently. “So what is next?”

“Well, I don’t believe Kerensky will do much at all. It has to be the people that make this revolution work. The tsar has done nothing but ruin the country.”

Higgins walked in from his office. “What’s this?” 

“Mr. Horan has just been telling us about the tsar.”

“And?”

Niall stepped in. “Imprisoned in the palace with his family, sir.”

“Oh, isn’t that terrible.”

“It had to be done. Anyway, they won’t hurt them.”

Mr. Higgins huffed. “And how do you know that? They may want to make an example of them.”

“Give them some credit, it’s just to prove a point. It’s a new government, they need to take some real control. And it’ll be no good starting out that government with the murders of a bunch of young girls.”

Mr. Higgins shook his head. “Enough of that, Mr. Horan."

Just then, Louis walked into the servant’s hall. “Mr. Higgins, a word?”

“What is it, Louis?” Niall heard a long breath escape Mr. Higgins’ lips.

“Sergeant Tomlinson, to you.”

“I believe it’s Corporal Tomlinson, isn’t it?”

“Not anymore,” Niall had never seen such a smirk on a person in his life. “I’m afraid you’ll be taking orders from me from now on, Mr. Higgins. I’ve just been given the position of manager of the Abbey during this little....project.”

Mr. Higgins turned bright red with anger. “How could that be? That was to be Lord Harry’s job!”

“Sergeant Styles and I will both be running the Abbey.”

Mr. Higgins looked beat. Niall was curious how this had come about, although it made sense to him that Lord Harry would struggle to run the household. He struggled to ask for anything from the staff. 

“Will you be in your old room, Sergeant, or shall I make up a guest bedroom?” Mr. Higgins looked wearier by the minute. 

“My old room will be just fine, thank you.” Louis smiled cheerily and started back up the stairs. 

~

“Loosen your shirt, there, and we’ll take a look.” The unfamiliar war doctor filled in a portion of the form on the clipboard in front of him. Niall unbuttoned his shirt for the doctor to listen to his heart. It was all routine, as far as medical examinations went, although the doctor had poked and prodded for some time at his arms and legs.

“Inhale, then exhale.” Niall followed the doctor’s instruction, who then promptly filled in his findings on the form. 

“I’m quite surprised they didn’t get you before now.”

“Some people have all the luck, sir.”

The doctor gave Niall a funny look. “You can redress, now, Mr. Horan.”

Niall buttoned his shirt back up. “Shall I report for duty in Chester?”

The doctor was preoccupied with his form. “You’ll be told what to do.”

~

Harry was exhausted. It had only been four days into caring for the officers, but managing the nursing staff along with all his normal duties was proving a lot to take. Sergeant Tomlinson seemed to be relishing the experience. He seemed at his prime ordering people around, and Harry didn’t doubt he’d probably be an excellent real sergeant at the front. 

Harry helped wheel a soldier in from a walk in the gardens and passed him off to a nurse. Horan was outside shining the car before he was to take Harry’s father to a Rotary meeting. He felt a little guilty for neglecting him for the past few days, but he had been so busy, there was no time for going outside for their chats. They seemed to both have a few minutes now, though, so he approached Horan.

“How long do you have before Papa comes outside? Did you want me to go and look for him?”

Horan looked up. “They aren’t going to take me,” he said flatly, and kept shining the car. 

“What’s this?”

“The army has turned me down.”

“Why is that? What’s wrong?” Harry hadn’t ever seen Horan so perturbed.

“Apparently I have a buggered left knee. Or, to be more specific,” Horan pulled a letter out of the inside of his jacket, “Osteochondritis dissecans.”

Harry was shocked. He had never heard Horan swear before. “Will it harm you?”

“Only my plans to humiliate the British army. I suppose you’re glad.”

Horan sounded so malicious. It frightened Harry a bit. “Well, I am glad. You’re not going away from here, either to rot in prison or in the trenches.”

“I haven’t given up yet. I’ll get them.” Horan stuffed the letter back into his jacket.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Horan. Why do you have to be so angry about this all the time? I know we weren’t our best in Ireland, but I....”

Horan cut him off. “Weren’t your best? Weren’t your best? I lost an uncle in the Easter Rising."

Harry continued to be startled. Horan never yelled at him. “You...you never mentioned an uncle.”

“Well, I am now. Just walking in the street, he was, and an Englishman just gunned him down as he passed. Had a wife and children. When they asked the man why he’d been killed, he said it was because he ‘looked like a rebel’. So don’t you tell me you weren’t at your best.”

“Listen, Horan, I didn’t...”

Lord Holmes-Chapel came out the front door at that moment. “I’m a bit behind, Horan, so we’ll have to step on it.”

Horan continued scowling as he opened the door for Lord Holmes-Chapel to step inside the car. Harry backed up to the curb to let them drive away. 

~

Niall had stewed in bed all night after yelling at Lord Harry. He didn’t exactly feel wrong about what he said, but he nonetheless felt guilty for upsetting him. His temper had gotten the better of him and he’d shouted at the last person in the world he’d want to. Lord Holmes-Chapel had offhandedly mentioned a general of some importance coming to visit, but Niall hadn’t particularly been listening well, as he had been in such a mood. Now, he wished he knew more, so he was pleased to see the sour Ms. Teasdale having a cigarette as he approached the backyard. If anyone were to know, it would be her.

Ms. Teasdale looked up from her cigarette and nodded slightly at Niall. “I hear you’re not off to war, then.”

There it was already. Niall couldn’t possibly know how she knew that already. 

“Apparently not. What’s this about a famous general coming to dine here?”

“He’s coming for luncheon, tomorrow actually. Why do you ask?”

Niall bit his lip in thought. “Oh, no reason.” 

He waited for Ms. Teasdale to finish her cigarette and go back inside, then headed inside himself and knocked on the door of Mr. Higgins’ office, although the door was ajar. “Mr. Higgins, a word?”

“I’m terribly busy with the upcoming luncheon, Horan.” Mr. Higgins had paper all around him and he continued to scribble notes on more of it.

“It’s about the luncheon, actually. I imagine you don’t have any footmen serving.”

“No, I certainly don’t.”

“I was hoping I could help you, then. I have waited a table before.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I couldn’t ask that of the chauffeur.”

“It’s no bother. I want to help. Keep up the honour of our great Lord and Abbey, right?” Niall was really trying to butter Mr. Higgins up. 

Mr. Higgins nodded. “Quite right. I’m very grateful, Horan. Do you know where the liveries are kept?”

Niall nodded. 

“And from what I hear, you won’t be leaving us?”

Niall nodded again. “Well, not at the moment.”

~

Niall finished his little note for Lord Harry and folded it. He knew he would be going away for a long time, and this would do little to apologize for that, but it was something. He still wanted to humiliate the army, and had instead concocted a plan to throw something terrible on the general under the guise of soup. He’d mixed up the most vile things he could find, mostly from the garage, and managed to get it into the soup tureen without anyone noticing. It was almost time, and he was in uniform and anxiously waiting.

Niall grabbed the arm of a maid with his newly gloved hands. “Could you please take this upstairs and put it on Lord Harry’s mantle?” He knew it was risky to give it to a maid, but it was less risky than placing it on Lord Harry’s mantle himself. The maid nodded and started for upstairs. 

“Ready to go, Mr. Horan?” Mr. Higgins seemed ready to lead the parade.

Niall nodded and started up the steps. 

~

The maid, a young Margaret, did indeed manage to put note on Lord Harry’s mantle, but curiosity got the better of her. It couldn’t be helped when the front said ‘Lord Harry, please forgive me’ in careful handwriting. One glance inside had her running back downstairs. 

“Mrs. Ellery, Mrs. Ellery!” The terrified maid flung the note in the hands of the head of female staff.

“Lord Harry, please forgive me? They’ll have arrested me by now, but I had to do it? The bastard had it coming for him? What is this, Margaret?” 

“From Mr. Horan, Miss. Told me to put it on the mantle then disappeared.” 

“Oh, my God. He’s upstairs now. Margaret, run, and tell Mr. Higgins! Run now!” 

The young girl flew up the stairs and into the dining room with no warning, startling both Niall and Mr. Higgins. Niall watched the maid frantically whisper in Mr. Higgins’ ear, to the surprise of the family and various dignitaries seated at the table. Dirty rat, Niall thought, although that thought disappeared as Mr. Higgins clamped his hand over Niall’s and pulled it back. 

“No,” Niall whispered angrily at Mr. Higgins. He knew he was about to foiled for a second time and it burned.

“Yes,” Mr. Higgins growled in a whisper back. He tightened his grip on Niall’s hand. If Niall could just twist away for a moment he could still get the mixture over the general.

Just then, Niall caught a glance of Lord Harry seated halfway down the table. The group was ignoring what was occurring between Niall and Mr. Higgins, and Lord Harry was no different. He looked happy and peaceful, his dimples on full display as he shared an anecdote with a captain across from him. Niall loosened his grip on the tureen’s lid, all his anger melting away. He hadn’t been thinking clearly about what was important, something that would be spoiled forever if he completed the deed. He let Mr. Higgins quietly lead him out of the dining room, although he got aggressive and twisted Niall’s arm behind his back as they reached the servant’s hall. 

“Alright, then! No need to be so rough!” He watched the maid follow down the stairs with the soup tureen. 

“There’s every need when it comes to stopping a murder!”

“A murder?” 

“You were going to assassinate the general!”

“I was not!”

The maid lifted the lid of the tureen and gagged. She took it over to the sink and dumped it, while other maids and Mr. Higgins also gagged. 

“I was just going to go throw that in his face. He’d only have needed a bath.” 

“What’s in it?” Mr. Higgins thundered. 

“I can’t possibly remember, but it’s all harmless. The real soup is in the pantry.” Niall scowled at all of them.

Mrs. Ellery sighed. “Margaret, you’ll have to serve. Put it in the copper pot, it’s not heated but it will have to do.”

Mr. Higgins positively glowered. “We’ll sort you out later, Horan.”

~

Horan had apparently taken sick at the luncheon and could no longer serve, which was a bit of a shame but not entirely, as Harry feared Horan was still angry with him and didn’t want to look him in the eye. He’d hate for Horan to be feeling poorly, though, and went out to the garage late in the evening to see if he was still there and perhaps feeling a bit better. He was, and seemed perfectly well, reading his paper while resting against the car. 

“Hello,” Harry tried carefully.

Horan smiled, which was a great relief. “Hello, m’lord.”

“Feeling better?”

“Yes, much better.” Horan put his paper down. 

“Horan, I just wanted to say that...”

Horan cut him off. “I’m sorry for shouting at you, m’lord. I didn’t mean it.”

“You did mean it, but that’s alright. I wanted to say sorry about your uncle.”

Horan nodded in thanks. “I’ve decided not to worry about humiliating the British army.”

“I’m very glad to hear it.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gemma finds out Harry's secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really Harry-heavy chapter, sorry.

Gemma took a deep breath. She had elected to take a walk with Granny to get out of the house for a bit, although her grandmother was the sort to unleash a judgmental diatribe quickly for no particular reason. Hearing all about how she needed to find a husband was easier than being indoors these days, though. Generally, Gemma went along and helped soldiers read and write letters, but it was more stressful than she thought it would be. She supposed walking Granny through the gardens was just as slow as walking a soldier, but at least Granny had wit to her and wasn’t a strange man who might try to proposition Gemma. A lot of them did. 

“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?” Gemma smiled.

“So, what are you intending to do about Sir Michael?” Apparently Granny was jumping right in with the conversation. Sir Michael was a powerful businessman in London who had essentially purchased his position, and he was somewhat older than Gemma. He liked her, and had offered to marry her, but there was something about him that made Gemma coil back. Perhaps it was the way he dressed down all his servants, and occasionally even her. Or perhaps it was all the stories she had heard about him, mostly about blackmail and other nasty endeavours he apparently partook in, in London. She felt she was turning into a bit of an old maid, so she had not turned him down yet, but she knew she probably would. Gemma had always struggled in this respect. Men avoided her like the plague, although she was vain enough to know she was beautiful. She figured it was more than likely her personality. She did not try to pretend to enjoy a man’s company if it did not please her, and it had given her a reputation. And now, with the war, any nice young man left was probably shipped off. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say about him. I haven’t made my decision. He wants to get us a house after the war is over, if I say yes. He said the market will be flooded with them.”

“Oh.” Granny wandered over to a bench and settled on it, still clinging to her cane. 

“But I don’t know. I don’t believe I am quite as fond of him as he is of me.” Gemma also sat, smoothing her dress.

“What about Harry? I know how busy he is, but hasn’t he found anyone at all? To my knowledge, he’s never even mentioned a soul.”

Gemma mulled this over. She’d watched her gangly brother’s behaviour more than anyone else ever had. They’d played all day together as children away from their parents’ eyes, and as they grew, they had stayed close, despite the gaping hole in their personalities. She knew Harry to be much softer and susceptible to influence than she was, but there was something more. It wasn’t how much he cried compared to her when they were young, or how wrapped up in a novel he could get. Gemma knew her brother had absolutely no interest in women. He’d floated past them all no matter where they were, and she hadn’t noticed at first, but before long she saw how much more he laughed and felt at ease among the boys his age. She supposed the family either didn’t notice or considered it just camaraderie, but they didn’t really know Harry’s cues like she did. It didn’t bother her about him, but it did bother her to know how unhappy Harry would probably be later in life. Right now, he was occupied and didn’t need to think about having a wife or family. She knew how hard it would be later, though. 

Gemma kept it short. “Not that I know of.”

“Nobody? Boys his age have an endless line of girls they wish to proposition. I know how many did to me.”

Gemma smiled a bit. “Granny. But I don’t know.”

“Perhaps it’s just a girl he doesn’t care to mention?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, war breaks down barriers, but once those barriers are erected yet again, it can be very easy to find oneself on the wrong side.”

“You mean like a nurse from the hospital.”

Granny looked coyly at Gemma. 

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Granny. You chastise me for being too worldly, and him for not being worldly enough. Isn’t that quite contrary?”

“I am a woman, Gemma. I can be as contrary as I please.”

~

Harry had puttered over to the garage to talk to Horan, and they were deep in conversation. He knew he should be back at the Abbey helping, but he decided this would be considered his luncheon and he’d go back in ten minutes. Well, he had thought that same thought ten minutes ago, but he imagined Sergeant Tomlinson could run the home without him for a little while longer. 

Horan finished up his sentence. “So, in reality, it was a very bad ploy of mine. Mr. Higgins made me promise never to do anything like that again, and I wouldn’t get in any trouble.” 

Harry frowned slightly. “Why did you promise Higgins you wouldn’t do anything, but not me?”

“I wasn’t thinking too straight.” Horan wandered over to his toolbox and began to organize it. 

“You won’t be content staying at the Abbey forever, will you? I know this isn’t what you want to do with your life, just tinkering with cars. I thought you would have gone to Ireland to fight in the Easter Rising.”

“I considered it. It was put down too fast, though. I think the real fight will be after the war, though, and I’ll be ready for it.” Horan looked slightly dubious as he said it. 

“But why not start now?”

“Truth is, I won’t leave the Abbey behind until you decide to leave it with me.”

Harry rubbed his temple. He had no idea why Horan was bringing this up now. He supposed it was because Horan felt they had moved forward in their relationship after their squabble. 

“Horan, I don’t know why you believe I would do that.” Harry felt himself turn into a coward yet again. 

“You don’t want to admit it, but you’re in love with me.” Horan said it with such force that Harry took a step back. Horan was right on both counts. He did love Horan, but he certainly wasn’t just going to profess his love and run off. It would ruin everything he ever knew. He backed up into Gemma, however, whom he did not know was close behind him. 

Gemma looked quizzically at them. “Horan, could you take me into Winsford at three?” She turned to Harry. “Anything you would like there, darling?”

“Nothing in Winsford, I think.” Harry’s face flared red. “I really should go back inside.”

~

Harry had made the decision to attend that night’s supper rather than work through it, as he so often did. It was a relief to step out of uniform even for a few hours. He was almost ready to go downstairs, except for a choice of cufflinks. 

There was a gentle knock on the door. It was probably a maid or his mother. “Who is it?”

Gemma let herself in. “Mama said you were gracing us with your presence tonight.”

“If I’m needed, it won’t take long to get back into uniform.” Harry looked up expectantly at his sister. 

“What were you talking about with Horan today in the garage?” 

Harry instantly scowled. He knew Gemma had heard something. “Nothing.”

“Then why were you there?”

“Why were you there?” Harry knew he was being childish, a bratty baby brother, but he felt cornered. 

“To order the motor. That’s why one talks to chauffeurs, isn’t it? To plan journeys by road?”

“He is a person, not just a chauffeur. He’s capable of carrying on conversations on many subjects.”

“I’m sure he can. But he shouldn’t be, with you. In fact, all those times you disappear after supper, is that where you’ve been?”

Harry felt his face crumple. “What do you want from me?”

Gemma looked anxious. “Oh, darling. Never mind, never mind.” She went over and brushed Harry’s hair back up and rubbed a bit more wax into it. 

~

Harry immediately regretted having supper downstairs the moment he sat down at the table. All the rules surrounding eating meals were incredibly grating, and he felt distanced from the rest of his family’s conversation. Although it was mostly the war they discussed, they talked about it in such an empty way. He knew his father had served and understood the horrors, but that was many years ago. 

His grandmother turned to him, carefully cutting a piece of her roast. “Oh, Harry. What have you been getting up to?” 

Harry must have been so quiet at dinner that conversation had to be forced upon him. “Oh, just work. I haven’t time for much else.”

“Gemma and I were talking about you just the other day, you know.”

“Oh?” Harry stiffened. He saw that Gemma had heard and was mouthing an apology to him across the table. Just his luck.

“I just mean, my dear, that sometimes in war, one can make friendships that aren’t quite... appropriate. It’s unfortunate, and once things are back to normal after the war, things can get very uncomfortable. I just want you to be careful.”

Harry stared at dismay at his grandmother, then at Gemma. He didn’t know what Granny was talking about. “Appropriate for whom?”

“Just some friendly advice, my dear.”

~

Harry felt surly. Gemma and his grandmother knew too much. He felt angry with himself and them for not keeping their mouths shut. Nobody needed to say anything on the matter. He’d gone to bed that night cranky, and had woken up feeling the same. Officers had taken notice. Harry had been short all morning, when he was usually very patient regarding their many needs. He often was there to play the role of kind leader compared to Louis’ brusqueness, but this particular morning he was having none of it. 

He was just taking a stack of towels out of the linens cupboard set up in a spare bedroom when Gemma entered and shut the door. 

“Harry, I never said anything to Granny. Honest.”

“Then why was she going off about inappropriate friendships the same night you did?”

“She thinks you have a female companion down at the hospital. A nurse. Don’t mind her, you know how Granny is.”

“I don’t deserve to be told off by you or her. Nothing’s happened.”

Gemma looked curious. “What do you mean by that, darling?” 

Harry realized he had backed himself into a corner. “I don’t really...” He petered off pathetically, and smoothed a towel over his arm.

“We are talking about...?”

“Horan.”

Gemma nodded. It was soothing to see she wasn’t flying into a rage. 

“I don’t even think we’ve shook hands. But...” Harry backed up to the edge of the bed and sat on it. His legs felt weak. 

Gemma stayed standing. “Darling, you must realize how unrealistic this is. It isn’t like we’ll all go round to you and the chauffeur’s place to have tea.”

Harry tipped his head down and stared hard at the towel in his hands. “I don’t know what I think, Gem.”

“What has he said to you?” Gemma finally went and sat next to Harry on the bed. 

“That he loves me and wants to run away with me. And that I love him back.”

“Good God in heaven.”

“He is frightfully full of himself, in that respect.”

“You don’t say. What did you tell him?”

“Nothing.”

“And you haven’t given him away?”

Harry felt a tear fall traitorously. “Why would I? I’ve got no right, being like I am.” His chest tightened a bit. “Will you?”

Gemma placed a hand on his shoulder and Harry felt his body go limp. It was alright. Gemma didn’t think he was disgusting. “No, I won’t. I promise I won’t, but you must promise not to do anything stupid.”

“I promise.”

~

Niall hated staying so late at the house. Old Lady Holmes-Chapel had yet to leave the house after supper, and she was certainly taking her time. The car was washed and in working order, and he was finished his daily paper, and to top it off, he’d forgotten his book at home. He’d taken to organizing the garage, a Herculean task. Niall enjoyed organization and kept his home very neat, but never seemed to have time for it at the Abbey. He guessed he’d sully his progress tomorrow by needing something and tearing through all the tools looking for it, but it was something to pass the time now. 

Lord Harry poked his head around the corner of the garage. He was in uniform, so he must be starting a late shift, Niall thought. Niall was continuously amazed at how Lord Harry always came back, no matter what stupid thing Niall said or did. 

“Hello Horan.”

“Hello,” Niall put down his work and came over.

“There’s something you ought to know,” Lord Harry looked slightly agitated. “I’ve told Gemma.”

Niall stared at Lord Harry in alarm. He knew Lady Gemma might have heard their conversation, but he didn’t think Lord Harry would give him away just like that. It hurt deeply. “I see. Well, then, it’s all over for me. No job, no reference. Prison, if they’re mad enough.”

Lord Harry looked just as alarmed back. “No, you don’t understand. She won’t say anything. She’s not like that. She won’t give us away.”

Niall blinked slightly at Lord Harry, taking in what he’d said. “But of course she won’t encourage us.”

“Well, no, of course not. Why are you getting a big grin on your face like that? I thought you would be angry.”

Niall felt light. “Because that’s the first time you’ve spoken about ‘us.’” He smiled further as he watched Lord Harry’s mouth turn into a little ‘O’ in surprise as he realized what he’d done. “If you didn’t care about us, you would have told them months ago.”

Lord Harry looked slightly cocky in return. “Just because I don’t want you to lose your job, I must be in love with you?”

Niall was amazed. This was the first time Lord Harry had ever talked with him properly about this. “Well, doesn’t it?”

“You’ve said I’m free like you, political like you. I hope I am. But you’re asking me to give up everything and everyone I’ve ever known.”

“I’m not asking you to give them up forever. Things will change, and they’ll come around. And if they don’t, they’re just trying to keep you from being happy.”

“What about your family? Would they care to hear this? What about my work?”

“What work? You’re skilled and yet here you are bringing hot drinks to a lot of fussy officers. Look, it comes down to whether or not you love me. The rest is detail.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicholas is injured in the war, and Niall and Harry contemplate the future.

1918 

Teatime was always a busy time for Harry and Sergeant Tomlinson. The officers could often get rowdy if they weren’t served their tea on time. Harry was learning every day just how difficult people could be, but he had decided long ago that they had been through a very rough time, and they had every right to be as irritable as they were. Sergeant Tomlinson seemed even more understanding than he, considering he had been wounded at the front. Although Harry liked Sergeant Tomlinson and considered him a friend, he knew he had probably been incredibly rude and difficult when he was recovering in hospital himself. Sergeant Tomlinson was funny and had always gotten along well with Harry, but he also knew how easy it was for people to get on his bad side. 

Sergeant Tomlinson was busy ordering nurses here and there, while Harry handed out a few cups of tea and trays of biscuits off a trolley himself. Suddenly, Harry felt a deep wave of cold go through him, like a ghost. He swooned slightly against his will, and dropped a full teacup all over the floor, grasping the trolley to catch his balance. The captain sitting up in bed stared at him in dismay. As did Sergeant Tomlinson, who stopped barking orders to rush over. 

“Styles, what’s the matter with you? Nurse Johnson, a towel!” 

Harry shook his head and stood up straighter, the cold feeling leaving him. “Nothing, I’m sorry. It just felt like somebody walked over my grave.”

Sergeant Tomlinson gave him a look and walked back off. Harry regained his composure and apologized to the captain at hand. Something felt ominous and terrible, and for the rest of the day, Harry couldn’t shake it. 

~

Louis couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He poured himself a cup of tea and tried to stay composed, but the news was shocking. His old nemesis, Nicholas, had been wounded at the front a few days prior, and it seemed quite serious. The entire downstairs staff couldn’t stop discussing it. When Nicholas had left for his new job at the start of the war, Louis admittedly had forgotten about him and moved on, although of course he would have been drafted for the front. The real trouble was, though, that Sergeant Styles was trying to get him to the Abbey for care, but Major Peterson was resisting. He recalled an episode Sergeant Styles had several days ago, where he’d said he felt deathly, and Louis wondered if somehow he’d felt Nicholas’ injury. It was stupid, of course, but Nicholas had dressed him for years. It was possible there was a connection.

He felt sorry for the staff. Although loss had been felt by all, this was the first member of the house who had been injured, and they weren’t taking it well. Although he knew nobody would probably believe him, Louis tried to express his condolences. 

“I am sorry. I am.” Louis put on what he felt was a soft expression and took a sip of tea. His comment was ignored, but at least nobody was outwardly scowling at him. 

“Any new bits of information?” Even Ms. Teasdale was tense. 

“Still nothing,” Mr. Higgins looked downtrodden. He had always been fond of Nicholas. “The doctor still won’t let him stay at the hospital and that seems to be the end of it.”

Mrs. Tilly shook her head in anger. “His poor father, spending all his money to go up and stay with him. He’s an old man, and he’s travelling miles to do it.”

“It’s not right,” one of the kitchen maids piped up. 

“No, it bloody well isn’t!” Louis felt himself snap. 

The group stared at him curiously. Louis instantly felt himself grow defensive, as he always did. 

“We’re both working class lads, aren’t we? I’m fed up by how our lot is always pushed aside.”

Louis put down his teacup and marched back upstairs. Sergeant Styles was not continuing this argument alone. 

~

Harry approached the garage. He didn’t think Horan was busy right now, but at this particular moment, he didn’t want a chat, he needed a ride. He and Sergeant Tomlinson had ganged up on Major Peterson several days earlier, and they’d finally reached the consensus that Nicholas would return to the Abbey for care. It wasn’t looking good for Nicholas, but Harry had promised he would care for him on top of all his regular duties. 

“Can you drive me to the hospital right now, Horan?”

“Aren’t you needed here right now?”

“I’d like to be there when Nicholas arrives.” Harry smoothed a small wrinkle out of his jacket. 

Horan raised his eyebrows slightly. “I heard about the lad. I’m sorry to hear. You must be taking it terribly.”

“No point in worrying until we see the damage, Horan.” Harry was remaining stoic about it. It did hurt rather painfully, more than every boy he’d ever known that had passed, but Nicholas was still here at the moment, and that was worth something. 

Horan furrowed his brow at this. “You’re good at hiding you feelings, aren’t you? All of you. Much better than we do.”

Perfect. Horan was choosing this exact day to both insult him and throw an underhanded dig at him because he hadn’t made any decisions about him yet. Horan should know by now that Harry found discussing his feelings difficult, and he wasn’t in any place to decide what he wanted, anyway. The war was still in full force, and there were people that needed him. Harry felt waspish. 

“Perhaps I do. But we do have feelings, and don’t you go around believing that we don’t.” He marched ahead of Horan and opened the door himself. “Off we go, then.”

~

Harry waited patiently as Nicholas was walked into the hospital on a stretcher. Major Peterson had insisted Harry be as much a help as possible, if he was going to let Nicholas into the hospital. Nicholas’ father was also waiting, sitting small and hunched. Harry sat next to him.

“We’ll do everything we can.” Harry bit his lip. He knew it wasn’t much comfort, but there wasn’t much else to say. He got up to help as Nicholas was shifted to the bed. The funny thing was, Nicholas looked almost perfectly well on the outside, except for some healing cuts and scratches. He wasn’t awake, although Harry had heard he had been a little bit lucid at the other hospital. 

“What exactly is the matter with him?” Harry helped tuck Nicholas into the blankets. He looked more boyish than Harry remembered, even though he hadn’t seen him in quite some time. 

Major Peterson looked grim. “It’s all internal. He had a placement as a captain’s soldier-servant, and he took the blow for him.” He pulled Harry aside. “His lungs have been fatally injured in the blast, it’s only a matter of time now."

Harry blinked. Nicholas looked so perfect. “But...”

“You should know as well as anyone that looks can be deceiving, particularly when it comes to these sorts of wounds.”

“What’s to be done, then? Does Mr. Grimshaw know?”

“We’re going to break the news to him gently. Right now, we’ve decided it’s best to move him right to the Abbey so he can be more comfortable.”

Harry nodded. He felt like throwing himself onto his bed and crying, but he stood straight as Mr. Grimshaw approached. 

Major Peterson seemed brisk and official. “We’ll have him moved over in no time, Mr. Grimshaw.”

“I’m very grateful, to all of you. Once he’s at a place he knows, he’ll grow stronger.”

Harry almost said something, but couldn’t bear it. Major Peterson was right, such a blow would be too hard to take right now. When Mr. Grimshaw was ready, they’d tell him. 

~

Nicholas was moved into one of the family’s guest bedrooms, rather than a cot with the rest of the officers. Lord Holmes-Chapel had insisted upon it, a move that surprised even Harry. It was a fairly grand bedroom that had been kept regular in case anyone came to visit the Abbey simply as a guest. Gemma had agreed to be a greater help than she had been, and care for Nicholas when others could not. Even through the night. It was greatly distressing for all to see Nicholas in this way, but it seemed to have bonded both the upstairs and downstairs. 

Nicholas was not often awake, and was only bleary when he was, but there were occasional moments where he could put together cohesive sentences. This was one of those particular moments, as Harry brought up some tonics for Nicholas to take. The cook’s helper, a girl named Rosie, was upstairs to say hello. She had joined the staff a year or two after Nicholas had, and Harry knew Nicholas had always wanted her as a sweetheart. She had never said yes, but even now, he could see Nicholas looked dopey and pleased she was there. Some men never change their minds, Harry sighed to himself, but tried to be as quiet as possible as he came in, letting them speak in peace. 

“Can you stay for a minute more?”

“I’ve really got to be going back to Mrs. Tilley soon. Isn’t fair for ‘er and all.”

“She won’t mind, Rosie.” Harry mixed up the tonic and helped Nicholas drink it. 

“No, before you go off, Rosie.” Nicholas reached upward for Rosie’s hand. “Would you marry me, Rosie? We could be married and happy.”

Harry’s shoulders dropped a bit in consternation. Nicholas was not thinking straight. While Harry was touched, he knew Rosie didn’t want to marry him. She liked him and thought him nice, but Harry could see even now she was wracking her brain for a way to get out of this.

“Mustn’t worry about that right now, Nicholas. Just rest, and get better, alright?"

Harry nodded. “We don’t want all that fuss and excitement right now. Just rest.”

Nicholas twisted up his face a bit. “But will you think about it?”

“I’ve really got to be going. They’ll be sending a search party any minute.” Rosie scampered off, and Harry didn’t blame her haste. 

~

Niall shook his paper and closed it. He wished it made the satisfying slam of a book. Nothing was working out. He’d hurt Lord Harry, and he hadn’t meant to. The entire house was in an entire state of disarray and pain because of the dying footman, and to top it off, he’d just gotten word that the Russian revolutionaries had just slaughtered the tsar’s family. Niall felt angry, almost as if the revolutionaries had done it as a personal affront to Niall. He heard the familiar click of Lord Harry’s boots on the cobble, though, and straightened up at his presence. Maybe he’d forgiven him. That would be at least one relief. 

“Gemma’s just telephoned, she’ll be back from the station for pickup by eleven tomorrow.”

Niall nodded. “Alright. How’s Nicholas?”

Lord Harry looked down. “Really quite awful. Gemma and I are taking good care of him, but there’s nothing really to be done. It’s so sad.”

Niall frowned in sympathy. He barely knew the lad, but he hated seeing the family, and particularly Lord Harry in such pain. He glanced up at the sky moodily, mulling over all the tragedies erupting seemingly everywhere.

“Is there something wrong, Horan?”

Niall sighed a bit pathetically. “They shot the tsar and his family.”

“Oh, how terrible.”

“I’m very sorry. I won’t deny it. But I suppose they feel like they must do it. Sometimes a hard sacrifice is needed for a better future. You thought that once.” Niall added without thinking.

“If you’re talking politics again, I thought we had decided no more talk of that, at least until after the war is over.” 

“Maybe you did. But there’s a lot of us who still recognize the need to keep fighting on.”

Lord Harry frowned. Niall never said the right thing, it seemed. He began to turn around to march out of the garage, but before he could stop himself, Niall caught Lord Harry by one side of his waist to keep him there. He didn’t want Lord Harry to leave. Lord Harry looked up at Niall in complete shock, but didn’t pull away. Niall let go and put his offending hands in his pockets. 

“Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for a future worth having. You see it yourself every day in this bloody mess of a war. That’s all I’m saying.”

Lord Harry leaned in towards Niall slightly, and Niall could feel Lord Harry’s breath on his lips. He was so close Niall couldn’t barely stand it. Niall had forgotten how tall Lord Harry had gotten, and for a moment, he almost felt intimidated as Lord Harry leaned over him. Lord Harry stayed still for a moment longer, then pulled back a bit anxiously and started back up the drive towards the house. Niall sighed and shoved his hands further into his pockets, leaning against the car. Every day Lord Harry was growing closer to making a choice. Niall knew he just had to wait. 

~

Harry had just finished cleaning Nicholas for the day, but unlike most days where they gently chatted to each other about this and that, if Nicholas was awake, they stayed quiet. Nicholas and his father had finally come to the understanding he didn’t have long left in this world, and both had been sombre ever since. Harry didn’t blame them, of course. He figured he would probably go into histrionics if he learned he was going to pass soon, so he thought they were handling it quite well. 

Nicholas did let out a small, strained chuckle regardless. “This always feels so strange, my lord. You being at my beck and call.”

“Don’t think of it that way. We’re just all trying to help. We’re friends, of course I want to help my friend.” 

Nicholas smiled a bit. “I hope you don’t mind, Rosie is meant to come up in a few minutes. I’m going to ask her again if she’ll marry me.”

Harry nodded. He still didn’t know if Rosie would say yes, and although he knew the girl wasn’t interested, it would almost seem a shame if she didn’t say yes. Nicholas was so earnest and just wanted to feel a bit more loved before he went. Harry wondered a bit if Nicholas felt as strongly towards this girl as Horan felt towards him, but was too shy to act brazenly as Horan did.

Rosie let herself in a few moments later, and Harry quietly began to tidy up the washbasin. 

“Come here.” Nicholas patted the chair near his bed. 

Rosie sat gingerly down on it, playing with her fingers, then the edge of her apron.

“I know I’m dying...” Nicholas started. 

“Don’t know that.”

“No, I am dying. No point in denying it. It won’t be long now. And that’s why....” Nicholas looked nervous for a moment. “That’s why I hoped you’d considered what I asked you.”

Rosie squirmed in her chair. 

“Listen. You’ll be my widow, so you’ll get a war widow’s pension. It’s not much, but I just want you to have something. Please. Let me do this for you.”

Harry felt like crying again. Nicholas knew Rosie just simply couldn’t love him like he wanted her to, but still wanted her to be cared for. 

“I can’t, Nicholas. Would be dishonest.” 

“It’s not dishonest. I care about you.”

Just then, Mr. Grimshaw poked his head into the door. “Has he asked yet? You’ll do it, won’t you?”

Harry nodded quietly to Mr. Grimshaw. It was hard to look the elderly man in the eye. There was something too sad about it. He was about to lose his last loved one, and Harry didn’t know what to tell him. Nobody really did. This marriage seemed to bring the man a tiny bit of hope, though, as if Nicholas’ marriage to this young girl would give him some sort of daughter-in-law to love. 

Rosie sighed a bit. She looked tense and Harry hated to see her feel so pressured. He hoped she could either find a way to say no graciously or just do it as a final act of kindness for Nicholas. 

“Maybe the vicar won’t do it?” Rosie tried one last attempt. “He may want to wait until Nicholas is well.”

“That time isn’t going to come, is it?”

Harry watched Rosie look between the two earnest, anxious men. She nodded a little and picked up Nicholas’ hand and gave it a tiny kiss. 

~

Rosie had been right all along, Harry mused, as he sat in the bedroom with Nicholas. The pastor hadn’t wanted to perform the marriage, thinking it was a ploy of Rosie’s to get the pension. Harry had argued for a long time with the pastor over the validity of the marriage, and to his surprise, Granny had also stepped in to help him. He supposed Granny didn’t like to see injustice, and she held so much sway over the village and its people. The pastor had to agree at that point, and a quiet marriage had been thrown a few days later in the bedroom, as Nicholas could not be moved. Gemma and his mother had managed to cover the bedroom and bed in garlands of flowers, and it did look quite beautiful. The ceremony had been serene and touching, and he thought there wasn’t a dry eye in the room, and that was including Sergeant Tomlinson and Granny. The entire staff had been invited upstairs, and Harry felt warm knowing everyone could come together as one during times like this. Everyone had departed now, except for Harry, Gemma, Rosie, Mr. Grimshaw, and Mrs. Tilley, who acted quiet motherly towards Rosie. 

Nicholas had barely been awake for the ceremony, although he was lucid enough to kiss the bride at the end. He hadn’t been awake since, and his breath was rattling more and more by the second. It had been about six hours since the wedding, and it was very late, but the small group stayed close to Nicholas. The wedding had been performed in the nick of time, it seemed, as they all knew Nicholas was going to depart very soon.

Mrs. Tilley gently tidied one of the young kitchen maid’s now drooping curls. “You should go downstairs and get some sleep, my love.”

Rosie shook her head. “No, he needs me. I’ll stay right here.” 

Everyone paused their conversation as Nicholas’ tinny breath slowly faded completely. Mr. Grimshaw shook his head. “Not anymore. He doesn’t need anybody anymore.”

~

Niall heard Lord Harry coming, and took his head out from inside of the engine. It had been a few weeks since his footman’s passing, and Lord Harry had stayed away from the garage since then. Niall wasn’t entirely sure if it was because he was simply too busy working and grieving, or if it was because he was angry with Niall, or both, but he was happy to see him now. Niall had wanted to express his condolences to Lord Harry, but he had never been out. Lord Harry had a mourning band around his upper arm, which surprised him. Usually just family wore those, but he supposed out of anyone, Lord Harry would be the sort to do it just because he wanted to. 

“I wish I knew how an engine worked.” 

Niall smiled up at Lord Harry. “I could teach you, if you like.”

Lord Harry held up a hand and grinned, showing his dimples. “That’s alright. Leave that for Gemma.”

“I thought you had been avoiding me.”

Lord Harry moved forward to stand beside Niall and stare into the engine in interest. “Of course not.”

“But you haven’t come up with an answer?” Niall didn’t like to feel like he was poking and prodding, so he tried to phrase his question this time a little more politely.

Lord Harry looked harder at the engine. “No, I haven’t. I know you want to go play your part in Ireland, and I respect that. But I simply won’t be able to decide until after this ghastly war is over. Papa says it won’t be long now. Can you wait a bit more?”

Niall felt a little shaky. Lord Harry was seriously considering it. He didn’t want to scare him off, as he so often did, so he caught Lord Harry’s eye and smiled gently at him. “I’d wait forever.”

Lord Harry’s mouth turned slightly upwards, in the tiniest smile. “I’m not asking for forever. Just until the end of the war.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Great War is over, and Harry finds himself bored and tired with the aristocratic way of life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe this will be the second-to-last chapter. There is a lot more to the real story of Tom and Sybil, but it isn't exactly useable for this. I highly recommend the program!

1919

“And with each chime, I want all of you to make a silent prayer for all those we have lost, and reflect on what this war has meant for all of us. We have a lot to thank for, and we will never be able to give many brave men those thanks.” Lord Holmes-Chapel concluded his speech, then stood at attention. Harry and Sergeant Tomlinson also did, followed by the entire house and staff solemnly standing up. The grandfather clock in front of all of them began to chime eleven o’clock, and everyone closed their eyes. 

Harry shuddered slightly with each chime. He was relieved the war was over, of course. Everyone was. But the end of the war meant the beginning of something else, and that thought terrified him. If he stayed at the Abbey, he didn’t know what he would be doing, and if he left...well, that was a bit too much to think about, so he thought back to the lost soldiers as the clock stopped chiming. 

“Thank you, everyone.” Lord Holmes-Chapel relaxed, as did everyone else. “Remember, this is a new dawn.”

It certainly was, Harry mused as he walked towards the library. The officers had slowly been departing, and the convalescent home was going to be packed up shortly. He felt guilty that he was a bit relieved to see it go, but he knew the rest of his family had no guilt at all about its departure. Sergeant Tomlinson seemed to be coming back to the Abbey, as well, as a result of no remaining footmen. This didn’t seem to make him the happiest, but work was work, especially when they all knew work would be scarce as veterans tried to fill jobs. It was certainly going to be tumultuous getting the world on its feet. Harry hoped it could be done at least somewhat smoothly.

~

“I nearly came down in a dinner jacket tonight.” Lord Holmes-Chapel smiled as his humorous reflection was well-received by the table. 

Granny decided to play along. “Well, why not just your pyjamas, Desmond?”

“That’s why I didn’t.”

Harry stared at dismay at the table. Supper was, for the first time in quite awhile, normal, and he was coming to the realization that he hated it. 

“I like the new fashions, actually. One couldn’t do anything but flop about on a chaise longue in the old styles, but now we can be comfortable.” Gemma gently dabbed at her lips with her napkin. 

“I think I’ll stick to the chaise longue.” 

Harry knew his grandmother was trying to be witty, but it was irritating nonetheless. 

“Granny, surely you don’t want things to go back to how they were, do you?”

“I certainly do.”

Harry turned accusingly towards his father. “And you?”

“I don’t deny this is a new era, but I would like some of the old stability back. I’ve felt rather useless this entire war, and I’d like to feel like I have purpose again.”

The table stayed awkwardly quiet for a moment, until Gemma piped up.

“Have you seen the new boyish style of haircut the girls are wearing these day?”

“I hope you won’t try that,” spoke Lord Michael. Gemma turned and scowled at him. 

“I just might.”

“It certainly isn’t feminine.”

“Then I suppose it’s up for debate how feminine I am.” Harry was glad Gemma hadn’t lost her spark. He did not like Lord Michael a bit and he couldn’t possibly see why she was continuing to let him court her, although at the rate they were going, that certainly wouldn’t be for long. 

“Oh, Higgins,” Lady Anne piped up. “Major Tyson’s mother has written. She and her husband would like to come to the Abbey for tea.”

“Why?” Lord Holmes-Chapel seemed puzzled.

“I suppose it’s the last place where he was seen alive. It makes sense.”

“Shall I prepare a bedroom, my lady?” Higgins filled Lady Anne’s empty wine glass.

“No, I think the tea will be just fine. All of us who knew Major Tyson can speak with his parents.”

Harry sunk into his chair. Everyone was going to keep blathering about the most insipid things. Either they were interested in the most useless parts of the new evolving world, or they were stuck in the old one. He fiddled with his awful bowtie. If this is what the Abbey was going to be like after the war, he wanted no part of it. 

~

Niall heard the click of Lord Harry’s boots on the cobble and stood straighter. It was an odd feeling knowing he’d probably never see Lord Harry in his uniform again, except for rare occasions. Now, here he was in his formal supper clothing. Niall was used to the outfit, but it always made him smile to see Lord Harry in such stuffy attire. 

Lord Harry gave Niall a wide smile as he approached. 

“Looking very fine, aren’t we?” Niall couldn’t help but poke a bit of fun at the outfit. 

“You’re telling me.” Lord Harry blinked at Niall. “You disappeared after this morning’s ceremony, where were you?”

“Just out and about, didn’t think I was needed.” 

“I envy you, you know. I feel very flat today. Everything’s ended, just like that. Everybody seemed to assume the position of the old days at dinner, but I don’t want that. I want more than that, I think.” Lord Harry bit his lip, then blew up the strand of hair falling into his face. It settled back into place and Niall would have laughed if he didn’t feel so wound up.

“Does that mean...you’ve...you’ve made your choice?”

“Not quite...but almost.” 

Niall felt crestfallen. He knew he had to give Lord Harry time, but it was still hard to hear no. Lord Harry must have seen how sad he looked, because he suddenly brought his hand up and cupped Niall’s cheek. He pulled his hand away after a moment, and started back up the driveway to the house. Niall’s cheek burned where Lord Harry had touched it, and he reached up and touched it himself. Lord Harry loved him, and that was all that mattered. He just had to wait a bit longer.

~

Harry was deeply engrossed in a book, tucked in his favourite corner of the sofa in the library. It felt so familiar, something he used to do every day until the war, yet something about it made him feel a little melancholy this particular day. All the soldiers had left, and the beds had been cleaned up. It had finally sunk in that there was no more work to be done at the Abbey. He heard someone come in, and part of him hoped it was just a maid coming in to tidy up. It was Gemma, instead. 

“It’s so strange having all our rooms back, isn’t it?”

Harry sat up from the edge of the sofa and put his book down. “We’ll get used to it. Trouble is, I don’t think I want to get used to it.”

Gemma sat next to Harry. “What do you mean by that?”

“It’s just that, I know what it is to have a job and work now. You know, to finish the day and feel tired but satisfied that you made a difference. I don’t want to just sit around waiting to manage estates, paying calls to girls in between."

Gemma looked concerned. “And how do you propose to escape all that?”

“I think I’ve found a way.”

Gemma rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Harry...please don’t be drastic.”

“Well, it is drastic.” Harry knew Gemma understood what he meant, and he didn’t care. “There’s no going back after I do it, but that’s what I want.”

Gemma looked down at her lap. Harry felt a pang of guilt. He knew Gemma wouldn’t give up his plan to anyone, but he had forgotten just how much his departure would hurt his family. He still had to do it, though. He knew he would never be happy if he didn’t, and he hoped his mother and sister would understand that. 

“I don’t want to marry Lord Michael.” Gemma spoke abruptly. 

“Then don’t. You’re worth so much more than that old codger. I’ve seen a change in you during this war too, Gemma. I hope you don’t lose it.”

~

Niall was deeply engrossed in his evening paper when he heard someone come down the driveway. He was a bit surprised, as it seemed quite late, but he supposed nobody from the family had requested a ride yet, so the festivities of having the house empty had them still going. He put his paper down to see Lord Harry coming around the corner. He approached Niall with a wide smile on his face.

“Gemma had a big blow-up with Sir Michael during supper, I think it’s over for them.”

Niall smiled back. “And that’s a good thing?”

“It’s a very good thing. I think the rest of my family is elated. It made me think, though, that things were really going back to normal at the Abbey. It’s made me really feel it’s time to move forward.”

Niall tipped his head up and prayed silently to God. “Do you mean you’ve made your decision?”

“Yes, and my answer is...”

Niall stared at Lord Harry’s face, and watched as his green eyes flickered with humour. Lord Harry was making Niall wait on purpose. 

“I want to travel, and you’re my ticket.” Lord Harry’s grin widened. “I want to get away from all of this, the house, the responsibility...”

“Me?” Even though Niall had been waiting for this answer for so long, he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. 

“No, Uncle Tom Cobley.”

Niall exhaled deeply as he watched Lord Harry let out a beautiful laugh. Lord Harry was going to be his. “I’m sorry. I’ve been waiting so long, I just, I can’t believe I’m hearing what you’re saying. You’re not worried about burning your bridges?”

“Worried? Bring me the matches.”

This was it. Niall leaned in to give Lord Harry what he had been longing to give him for so many years. Lord Harry caught the edge of Niall’s lapel and pushed him back ever so slightly. Niall felt himself make a tiny whine of frustration.

“You can kiss me, but that’s all until everything is settled, alright, Niall?”

It was alright. More than alright. Nothing could ever have been more alright in the history of alright things. “God knows, it’s enough that I can kiss you.”

Lord Harry, or Niall supposed just Harry now, leaned down slightly and let Niall slip his arms around his waist. Niall pulled Harry in closer, and their lips met.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall and Harry leave the Abbey.

Dearest Gemma, 

I’ve left now, and I hope you won’t hold it against me that I am gone. I know you think this is foolish, but I wouldn’t be happy any other way. I don’t want to live a life of emptiness, and I know you do not. It’s hard to understand, I know, but just like you could not be with Sir Michael, I could not live my life trapped at home, wed to some wonderful woman that I still could not love. Please do not tell Mama and Papa that this letter exists. I have left one for them myself on the mantle, and although they are sure to figure out I have run off with the hired help soon enough, I don’t want to give them any head starts. They will be so angry, and I am sorry you have to be the one to deal with them. Please do not worry. I will write to you as soon as I can. I love you with all my heart, as hard as it is for an Englishman to say it. 

Good bye, darling. 

Harry

Harry tucked the letter inside its envelope and placed it delicately on Gemma’s mantle. The letter for his family had been placed on his own mantle, and he knew it would be unsatisfactory. It was a vague and cryptic letter, although he had tried to express how much he cared for them. Niall was waiting at a designated spot outside the Abbey, so he knew he had to hurry, but everything suddenly felt so final. As much as he liked to hope his family would one day welcome him back, he knew they probably wouldn’t. 

It was already nightfall, and Harry felt his chest tighten. Disappearing into the dead of night, like any hero in a novel. But they’d deemed it the best way to get Harry out. Harry had wanted to take one of the cars, but Niall had felt very badly about it and said they’d walk and stay in as many out of the way places as they could until they could reach the ferries and cross to Ireland. Although Niall had family there, it was a fresh start for Harry and left him nearly untraceable. If he was honest, Harry felt elated at this, even amidst his fear. He picked up his two suitcases, one with his clothing and one with personal objects, which was mostly books, and stared at his almost perfectly tidy bedroom. This was it. The last he’d maybe ever see of his room. Harry nearly held back for a moment more to try and memorize every last little bit of the room he’d spent the last twenty-five years of his life in, but forced himself to instead hasten downstairs. 

Niall was waiting quietly behind the garage, a small suitcase waiting beside him. He had a paper he was reading, but his face was deeply buried in it, contorting slightly as he tried to read in the dark. Harry wanted to laugh. He seemed to always have a paper with him. It was also a completely new experience, seeing Niall in his normal clothing. To Harry, his chauffeur’s uniform had been his normal clothing, not a day suit and cap.

“Niall.” Harry called out gently, not wanting to startle him. 

“M’lord. God, um, Harry.” Niall put his paper down and smiled, looking relieved that Harry actually showed up. He still called Harry “m’lord” quite often despite himself, but Harry felt himself nearly saying Horan just as much so he didn’t mind. It would just take time. 

“I’m here. Ready for a terribly grand adventure.”

“Without a hat.” Niall grinned mischievously. 

“Oh, I have forgotten it.” Harry could see it on the nightstand, in his mind. He’d meant to take it. “I’m not going back in, though. I’ll have to just miss it.”

Niall kept smiling. “My scatter-brained love.” 

“Come on, then.” Harry wished he could hold Niall’s hand as they walked, in peace and quiet, but he had his two suitcases to carry. Instead, he settled for gently clasping his hand for a moment before letting go and starting to walk. 

Niall trotted along. “I feel like we’ve got so much to say, so much to learn about each other. We know so much already, but only the most topical of things. Not how we feel on anything real, except I suppose politics.”

“I was going to say.” Harry laughed a bit. “But you’re right. And we’ve got a lifetime to learn.” 

A large raindrop plopped onto Harry’s coat a moment later, and Harry looked disapprovingly up at the sky. “Did you feel any raindrops?”

Niall glanced upwards as well. “Is it raining?” 

A raindrop hit him in the eye and he made a face, which made Harry laugh quite hard. “This is perfect. Like a novel, really, running away in the rain to our destinies.”

“You think this is lovely? Oh, lord.”

“You’re the one that wished not to take the car. Come on, I want to enjoy this walk.”

“But you haven’t got a hat, you’ll get soaked.”

“A hat isn’t going to protect me terribly much from the rain. We’ve got nowhere to go but onwards, anyways, we might as well enjoy it.”

Niall’s face broke into a proper grin. “I think I’ve found myself with a real romantic.”

“And I hid it so well.” The rain was starting to come down properly all over the place, and Harry already felt it penetrating his clothing onto his skin. It felt cleansing to have it all come down, washing away the Abbey and even a lot of the guilt he felt for leaving the family. He was meant to be free. 

“Your hair is all over your face.” Niall reached over with his free hand and brushed some wet strands aside. The pomade Harry always used in his hair was certainly being washed out, and his hair lay flat and wet against his head. 

“It’s longer than I thought.” 

“I’m very crafty, Niall. I’ve gotten good at plastering it back just right.”

“Except for a strand.”

All these years and Niall had noticed him pushing his hair out of his face. It touched him.

“There’s an inn at the next village. We’ll stop there. Hopefully, by the time we’re off again, tomorrow, your family won’t have gotten to us.”

~

“Feeling somewhat drier?” Niall felt his coat, which was still quite wet, before finally choosing to shed his jacket and shirt, leaving just his undershirt. Harry had already done so, sitting on the ground next to the fireplace, watching it crackle away. They’d arrived at the inn and asked for a room, pretending they were too poor for two separate ones. Now, as Niall watched Harry dry out as he pensively watched the fire, clad in just an undershirt and his trousers, Niall realized that for all their vulnerable moments together, none had been more so than this. 

There was something going on with Harry’s hair, as well. Niall knew it was always trying to burst out of its coif, but now, as it dried naturally, it was beginning to puff up and go quite curly. It was all falling in his face and he pushed it out absently, unaware of how beautiful he looked. He nodded at Niall, who followed and sat down next to Harry on the carpet laid out in front of the mantle. 

“Here we are. Completely alone, just us.”

Harry broke in before Niall could start rambling. “What are we going to do with our lives, Niall? I know we’re going to Ireland, but after that, what are we going to do?”

“You’ve trained as a doctor. As for myself, I could still work with automobiles. Or I could take a shot at writing articles. You know, about the Irish struggle. It’s not over yet. I don’t...” Niall thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t think we have to know yet. Yes, we will always have to be cautious with our lives. But we’ll finally have one, and that’s what matters. The rest we can sort out later.”

Harry was listening closely, his eyes intensely staring at Niall. After he was finished speaking, he leaned in and gave Niall a kiss, only the second one they’d shared. 

“Niall, you’ve waited so long. I’m yours.”

Niall blinked. Did Harry mean what he thought? He swallowed and took one of Harry’s hands, rubbing it a little. “Do you...?”

“Yes, love. I want to be yours in every way imaginable.”

Harry got up and strode over to the bed, and Niall scrambled to follow. His heart was thundering in his chest, but he tried to remain in control, sliding in beside Harry and resuming their kissing. They both had no practice, and they were awkward and messy, but it didn’t matter. Harry’s tongue was the sweetest thing Niall had ever tasted. His body felt on fire, and based on Harry’s own flushed cheeks and neck, he felt the same. Niall stroked Harry’s side gently for a moment, then pulled off his undershirt. Underneath all his layers of shirts and coats, Niall found Harry to be slender, most of the his baby fat having disappeared by now, although he was still soft around his hips. His chest was smooth and his nipples bright and erect, practically begging to be touched. He did so, and Harry let out a melodic moan of pleasure. God, Niall thought, as the fire in his body quickly traveled south. He really was perfect. 

Harry was tugging gently on the edge of Niall’s shirt. “My turn, I want to see, Niall.”

Niall obliged and removed his shirt. It was strange to think that just the act of removing shirts had them so excited, but after a whole life of never experiencing an ounce of sexual pleasure, it seemed like an almost unimaginable dream. Harry took his time drinking in Niall’s own chest and arms, thick and well-defined by his years of labour. Niall could see a lump in Harry’s own trousers, and reached over and undid the button, hoping Harry wouldn’t mind his forwardness. Instead, he slid out of his trousers and tossed them on the carpet near the fire, taking a moment to pull off his socks as well, chuckling a bit to himself. 

“Why are you laughing?” 

“Imagine doing what we’re about to do with socks nearly up to my knees.” 

Niall laughed a bit himself. Despite the air full of tension, their bodies yearning to touch fully, Harry was relaxed and making jokes. Niall followed suit, pulling off his trousers and making a big deal about slowly peeling off his own socks. 

“What now, Niall?” Harry’s hand fluttered to the front of his briefs, as if he wanted to touch himself but was unsure of whether he should. 

“We make love, I assume.” 

“But how?”

Harry said it with such honesty that Niall was struck with how sheltered Harry was throughout his life. Niall hadn’t made love before either, but he well knew how one ought to do it. Being raised to be a pompous Earl left little room for learning how to do anything with your lover, other than copulating to make a child, he supposed. Any discussions of it he may have had about it with other lads at a dinner or a ball would only have been about girls. 

“I suppose we just, we get all the way undressed and sort ourselves out as we go. I’m not sure how to explain.” Niall laughed a bit to try and break the tension. 

“Then let’s do that.” Harry removed his briefs, finally allowing himself to stroke up his rather large member. It was beautiful, and Niall itched to stroke it himself, but instead removed his own bottoms and watched as Harry’s face flushed deeper. 

“Go on, then, m’lord.”

“I’m not your lord, Niall, I’m just yours.” Harry smiled, before laying back onto the bed and continuing to touch himself, his curls looking soft and luscious spread out on the bed. Niall balanced himself over Harry and gave him a few more kisses, running his fingers through Harry’s hair. It was thick and perfect and Niall wished he’d known how it really was, for all these years.

“You never told me how curly your hair was.”

“Nobody thought my wild hair was proper, in my family.”

“I love it. You should have it like this more often.” 

Harry grinned, his dimples making an appearance. “Maybe I will.”

Niall grinned back, then lowered his hips to drag his own length against Harry’s. 

“Ohhhh, Niall, oh, God, that feels so good, Niall.”

Hearing Harry say his name with such rapture made Niall feel overwhelmed with bliss. He kept rubbing, letting Harry moan away, until Harry slipped out from under Niall and opened his legs. 

“I’m doing this correctly, right? Can you...you can go this way, right?”

Niall nodded. “I’ve got some petroleum jelly that I use on my hands after a long day at work. It’s in my bag.”

“What do you need that for?” Harry lifted his head, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“It will hurt otherwise.” Niall nipped off the bed and opened his suitcase, fishing out the little tin and scurrying back, anxious to not keep Harry waiting. 

“I suppose it would.” Harry kept touching himself a bit absently as Niall opened the tin. “You’ve got a wonderful body, Niall. So, masculine.”

Niall felt himself glow with pride a bit as he put a little petroleum jelly on his finger. “Do you feel relaxed?”

“Never more relaxed in my life.”

Niall smiled, gently rubbing Harry’s hip before moving towards Harry’s posterior. It looked blushed and ready to be taken care of, so Niall gently slid a finger in. Harry clenched a bit, but relaxed his muscles a moment later and let Niall continue. 

“I didn’t know it would be like this. But it feels good.” 

Niall leaned down and kissed Harry’s delicate collarbone as he kept fingering Harry, gently pushing a second finger in. “Still feel good?” 

“Yes, it does. Don’t worry about me, Niall, every time you touch me it feels like I’m flying.”

Niall beamed and scissored his fingers carefully, before adding a third. This last one, he kept in for quite some time, really letting Harry loosen up and get used to the feeling. Abruptly, Harry seized up and grasped the duvet. 

“What is it?”

“You hit a spot, Niall, and it felt so good.”

Niall tried again, and Harry seized yet again, letting out a long hiss before crying out. Niall removed his fingers and Harry sat up, looking slightly dizzy.

“I need you, Niall. Show me how good you can make me feel.”

Niall gently pushed him back down and spread his legs wider. This was the moment. Seven years in the waiting. Niall had built it up so often in his mind. He tried to calm his own nerves, as Harry looked so serene, his hair surrounding his head like a halo. He finally worked up the nerve and entered Harry, who brought his knees far up and keened loudly. 

“More, more, Niall, please God."

Niall could hardly believe how much Harry wanted him. He picked up the pace, as erratic as he was. It felt better than he could imagine. It was far past any daydream he had ever had about Harry. It was heaven. Already, the heavy tension in his nether region was mounting, but he wasn’t surprised. Harry seemed similar, going shaky and sweaty as Niall kept thrusting. He finally reached down and gave Harry’s length a good tug, and before long he came, jolting with each spurt. His entire body seemed to collapse after that, and he stayed limp while Niall came a moment later. Niall pulled out and let Harry put his clingy hands all over him. 

“God, my beautiful boy, oh God.” Niall crawled off him and tucked Harry into his arms, breathing shakily. “I don’t want to ever let you go.”

Harry ran his hands through Niall’s hair, which felt comforting. Niall pulled the duvet around them. “Harry, we’ve got a whole life of this in wait for us. I can’t wait.”

“I feel giddy. Whatever we do, it doesn’t matter. I could spend my entire life wrapped up like this with you.”

“Let’s start with tonight, Harry. We’ve got quite a trip ahead of us.”

~

“Good morning, beautiful.” Niall leaned over Harry, stroking his arm lightly. “We’ve got to be on our way, Harry.”

Harry moaned lightly. “Already? What time is it?”

“It’s early. I know, you’re used to a more gradual awakening.”

“Nothing quite so nice though.” Harry sat up, rubbing his eye. He knew his hair was probably sticking straight up, but there was nothing he could do about it. “Can’t we spend just a few more moments in bed? I fell asleep so quickly last night.”

“As did I.” Niall pulled Harry into his arms for a few final moments of peace before another long, tiring walk. Harry almost felt like drifting off again, never wanting to leave the safe haven of their inn, but he finally pulled himself away and got up, finding his briefs from last night. Niall followed, running a hand through his blond locks and then searching the floor for his trousers. They got dressed in amiable silence, until there was a knock on the door. Harry stared hard at it, halfway through putting his braces on. 

“Who do you suppose it is?” Niall looked tense, scrambling to finish buttoning his shirt.

Harry finished clipping his other brace on. “It’s either an angry guest from beside our room who heard us last night, or it’s my family.”

“God, please tell me it’s an angry guest.” Niall slunk to the edge of the bed. “Don’t answer.”

The knock came harder. “Harry?”

“Family.” Harry felt defeated. Worse than that. Everything could come crumbling down at their feet. This was all illegal. His family would prosecute Niall. 

“HARRY. It’s Gemma, you answer that door right now.” 

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Gemma. She shouldn’t have come, but she wouldn’t hurt Niall. 

“Are you still going to answer it?” Niall looked anxious. 

“I think I’d better.” Harry opened the door a crack, fruitlessly trying to push some of his bouncing hair aside. 

“Oh, my god, darling. You’re here.” Gemma pushed into the room. “You must come home, please, darling. I won’t tell Mama and Papa about what’s happened, please, just come home.”

Gemma looked close to tears, like she was trying hard to hold onto her dignity.

“Are they very worried?”

“Nobody knows what’s happened. I knew, but I didn’t say. I simply said I was going out looking for you. Please, Harry, don’t be so rash. You promised me you wouldn’t do anything stupid!”

Harry wanted to cry himself. “But Gemma, I haven’t broken my promise. This isn’t stupid, this is giving me my life.”

“At the expense of ours.”

“But it isn’t, Gemma. I love you all so much, but I was so deeply unhappy. Please, I know you can understand that unhappiness, I know you can, Gem.”

Gemma looked defeated and tipped her head down. “I’ll never hear from you again.”

“That isn’t true, I won’t let it be. I will write. I will find a way to visit you. You are my darling sister and you have never turned me in for any of the things I have done in my life.”

“You had better. Your note made me cry very much this morning, although maybe not as much as Mama.”

“When Mama feels ready to hear from me, please write and tell me. I will write her in return.”

Gemma nodded, then turned and stared hard at Niall. “You will not ever hurt him.”

“On God’s green earth, I wouldn’t dare.” Niall put his hand to his heart and smiled. 

“I’ll tell them I couldn’t find you. Be safe, my darling.” Gemma kissed Harry’s cheek and took his hands, squeezing them, before letting go and closing the door behind them. Harry kept staring at the door until Niall came up behind him.

“Feel alright?”

“Better than I thought. I’m sad, Niall, but I have proper closure, a proper goodbye. Now, let us get a move on, we’ve got a busy life that I wish to start as soon as possible."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a short epilogue! Keep going to the next page! :)


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking by me during this! I know it's been so long! I hope you enjoyed it all! :)

“Do you really think she’ll show up?”

“It’s been three years, of course she’ll show up. She won’t want to miss this.”

“Is she bringing her son?”

“I hope so. I love babies.”

“I know you do.” Niall looked relaxed on the blanket they had spread out on the grass. London was busy and they had chosen a secluded portion of the park to meet Gemma at. Harry felt on edge, anxious to see Gemma after so long, but ecstatic they had managed to arrange something. She was in town for their young cousin’s season, and had asked to see them if it was possible. 

“Darling!” Harry saw the familiar figure of Gemma crest over the small hill, big metal pram in hand.

“Gemma!” Harry rushed over to the edge of the hill, just nearly stopping himself from hugging her hard.

“Your hair. It’s ludicrous.” Gemma smiled, adjusting her hat slightly. 

“What? Oh, yes.” Harry felt his pomade-free hair, grinning impishly. “I want to meet my nephew.”

“Yes. Here’s Edward.” Gemma pulled him out of the pram, which made him squawk a bit, and passed him to Harry.

“My middle name.”

“I couldn’t outright get away with Harold.” Gemma laughed a bit. “Horan....er, Niall? Harry tells me you write for a paper.”

“I do.” Niall got off the blanket and came up behind Harry. “I write under a pen name for a Socialist newspaper.”

“Of course you do.” Gemma laughed a bit, following them to the blanket. “And Harry, you are a doctor now?” 

“In a very tiny village, where we live, so we won’t be noticed. I am their main physician, although that sounds more grand than it is, considering the size of the place.”

“But you’ve done it, you’ve kept working. I’m proud of you.”

Harry nodded. “And you’ve found someone to love.”

“I didn’t ever imagine it would be the very heir meant to take your place, but considering how distant of a relation he was, when I discovered how fond I was of him, we couldn’t resist.”

“And you will be queen of your castle once he rises to the throne.” Harry chuckled. “The way it should be, you should always have been the one to take on the Abbey.”

Niall took Edward from Harry and clapped his hands together a bit, for fun. He was so good with the child, Harry could already see, having a young nephew he visited from time to time himself, and Harry felt warm. They’d somehow beaten every odd set against them, he and Niall, and they still trundling along. And there was never a day where they ever regretted being with each other, not one. Harry remembered Niall once saying he’d wait forever for Harry, but they were in forever now.


End file.
